


Lyrium and Ashes

by ErinM31



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-27
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-04 09:43:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 40,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinM31/pseuds/ErinM31
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris is an escaped slave who has spent the last years running from the mage who nearly destroyed him. When a powerful mage comes to his aid, Fenris is determined to hate him too. Mages are all the same... except that Kaiden Hawke isn't. Will Fenris be able to let go of his past and find love? Or will that past finally catch up with him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Sickness

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to see artwork for this story, please check out my page at Deviant Art: ErinM31.deviantart.com

**Slaver Caverns outside of Kirkwall**

_She liked to eat in front of him. He knew when he’d had nothing all day but a bowl of gruel that he’d be waiting on Hadriana at dinner. He would attend her and her “friends” in her opulent apartments, pouring the wine, serving their extravagant meals. Watching him, she would curve her mouth around a juicy bit of steak, eyes half-closed in pleasure. She wanted him to ask for some, to pilfer a taste of the excess they squandered. Fenris would never grant her such a victory._

_One of her companions stood near him, reeking of perfume and wine. He did not move, did not let his face betray anything as she scraped a manicured nail down one of the lyrium markings on his neck. “Just how far do these tattoos go?” While he imagined the satisfying pop her windpipe would make as he crushed it, Fenris stood still, impassive._

_Hadriana’s mouth twisted into a delighted sneer. “There’s one way to find out.”_

There was only one person whom Fenris wanted dead more. Danarius was not here, however. His former master had placed a large bounty on him, enough to tempt one band of slavers after another to make the long voyage from the Tevinter Imperium in northern Thedas to the sparsely populated Free Marches in the south. Now Danarius had sent his apprentice, Hadriana, to recover his recalcitrant property. All this effort would have been ridiculous were Fenris just another expendable elven slave. Fenris, however, was much more than simply an elf: He was a weapon.

Now Hadriana lay before Fenris, the broken bodies of her guards strewn around them in the dark cavern. She had bargained for her life with information about his and Fenris had meant to keep his word. Let her crawl back to Danarius and report her failure.

It was her smile that killed her. After she had told him that he had a sister named Varania and where to find her, Hadriana’s dark red lips twisted into a sneer. It was the look she would wear while getting him into trouble, knowing exactly what Danarius would do to him. It was the expression on her face when she’d walked in on several of Danarius’s associates using him. It was that smug look of victory.

Fenris leaned his greatsword against the rock wall. She would die by the power her master had inflicted upon him. As effortless as making a fist, Fenris activated the lyrium engraved in his right hand and arm. The magical substance glowed bluish-white as his arm became incorporeal. The smirk was gone. Hadriana’s blue eyes widened as she opened her mouth, whether to scream or beg for her life, Fenris was beyond caring. He plunged his hand into her chest as if it were water. He could feel the currents, could feel the tissue his hand moved through, and found the slippery fish that was her heart. All at once he deactivated the lyrium and his fist again became solid in an explosion of blood. He felt the fish writhe, and then stop. When he withdrew his hand, his gauntlet was covered in her blood.

Turning from her corpse, he was almost surprised to see the dwarf and two mages who had fought beside him. The blond mage, Anders, had his arms crossed, ruffling the feathers that adorned the shoulders of his teal robe. In another situation, it might have made his disgusted expression humorous. The other two were also watching him, their faces unreadable. Fenris really didn’t want to know what they were thinking. He moved to go around them, back toward the passageway they had followed into the cavern. “We’re done here.”

“Fenris…” Fenris tried to ignore Kaiden Hawke, but the red-haired mage stepped in front of him. “We’ll find your sister. If-”

“Are you mad? This is a trap! Even if I have a sister, Danarius has to know about her, and that Hadriana knew.” He pressed his fists to his forehead, filling his senses again with her stench. “All that matters is that I finally got to crush that bitch’s heart. May she rot, and all the mages with her.”

Anders shook his head. “After all we’ve done for you… How many times has Hawke risked his life to save your worthless hide?”

Kaiden’s ice-blue eyes flashed with anger as he turned on his friend. “ _Anders!_ ” The mage flinched, but continued glaring at Fenris.

It was ridiculous that Anders, of all mages, protested loudest their treatment. While he claimed that not all were bad, he had done what even blood mages condemned: He had allowed himself to become possessed. The mage claimed that it was a good spirit, a spirit of Justice, but that didn’t matter; he was still an abomination. Fenris sneered. “You saw what was done here. Mages will always find an excuse to use blood magic and consort with demons. Even if I find this sister, who knows what the magisters have done to her. What does magic touch that it doesn’t spoil?”

Kaiden’s eyes widened but he didn’t say anything. Fenris expected him to protest the same as Anders, to tell him that not all mages were bad, to argue with him as the mage had done so many times before. He wanted Kaiden to yell at him then, but instead the mage just looked at him, an expression of sadness, but also understanding. Shit. That look was just adding to the hollowness inside. It was too much. His anger was sputtering away and without it, he felt he might collapse into nothing. Fenris turned away. “I… need to go.”

* * *

At last the elf was gone. Anders knew that he shouldn't have expected better, but he was furious that Fenris had once again cursed all mages after they had helped save his ass. It was for Kaiden's sake alone that Anders had resisted saying more.

This whole scenario reminded Anders of when they'd first met Fenris not quite a year ago. It had been a contract to recover some smuggled lyrium for a templar and Anders had gone with, eager for what he'd hoped would be an opportunity to blackmail one of the mages' oppressors. It turned out to be a ruse. Fenris had hired them to walk into a trap set for him. At first, Anders had felt sympathy for the escaped slave. He knew what it was like to be on the run and had lost track of how many times he had escaped from that mages’ prison they called the Circle, only to be caught and dragged back again. The last time that the templars had brought Anders in, he'd spent a year in solitary confinement.

Thus it was that when Fenris had asked for their help in bringing the fight to the Tevinter slavers, they had gladly fought beside him. Of course he and Kaiden had used their magic in the battle. Evidently just realizing they were mages, Fenris had turned on them afterward, as if being mages made them Tevinter spies. Anders would have been done with the elf right then and there, but Kaiden...

"You coming, Blondie?"

Anders' thoughts were pulled back to the present. Varric came up with nicknames for everyone, including his crossbow, which he'd named Bianca. The dwarf rasped his voice into a theatrical whisper, "We still have a secret informant to meet up with." He waggled his eyebrows for added emphasis. That earned him a grin from Kaiden and Anders couldn't help but smile himself. Varric was good at that.

As Anders cast a look back, his smile faded. Hadriana's face was still twisted in agony and her chest was a mass of gore. Although Fenris showed himself without honor by breaking his word, Anders was not sorry that she was dead. He had seen the bodies of the slaves she had killed, using their blood to fuel dark magic in an effort to protect herself. No, she was evil and cowardly and the worst example of a mage. Fenris, however, did not see the difference. Anders feared that one day the elf would crush his heart, or Kaiden’s.

* * *

**Kirkwall**

It was ironic, this city that Fenris had come to call “home.” Kirkwall had started as a mining camp and then grown into a slave thoroughfare centuries ago when all of Thedas had been part of the Tevinter Imperium. Immense statues of chained slaves still guarded the entrance to Kirkwall’s harbor and there were more in “The Gallows.” The imposing tower had once been the seat of Imperial judgment in the region and the statues were meant to inspire fear in those who would disobey. Now the tower was used as Kirkwall’s Circle, home to all the legal mages in the city’s jurisdiction. Anders would point out that the statues now represented the plight of mages throughout most of Thedas. Fenris scoffed. For all his whining about the Circle and templars, the abomination knew nothing of being a slave.

Passing through back-ways he knew by heart, Fenris was soon in Hightown. The streets were wider here and the architecture stately rather than oppressive. Wealthy Tevinter slavers had once lived in this district and it had been constructed in the style of Tevinter mansions, including large courtyards which made more sense in the balmy north than they did in Kirkwall.

It was yet another layer of irony that Fenris – an elf and escaped slave – was squatting among Kirkwall’s elite. He passed the vine covered arches and rows of manicured shrubbery to “his” mansion. The last group of slavers to come after him had made it their base of operations. After dispatching them, Fenris had simply taken up residence himself. Part of him had hoped that more would come, so he could watch their disdain turn to terror before he killed them. Part of him had hoped that Danarius himself would come for him once Fenris stopped running. Then too, there was the very practical need of a place to stay. Fenris did not have the coin to stay at an inn indefinitely and he was not about to take charity, especially not from Kaiden. The man had done too much for him already.

Fenris pushed the door open. It was never locked; that had been the first thing he’d broken in the place. Stepping over the remains of a table, he walked through another ruined doorway and down a stairway to the cellar. Everyone was always after him to fix the place, but he had never intended to stay here long.

He had long since consumed the fine Tevinter wine stockpiled by the slavers but he had restocked with a cheap wine sold at the docks. The taste was not as pleasant, but at least it brought no memories, and it got the job done faster.

Fenris wasted no time in emptying a bottle and then uncorked another. Again his thoughts turned to Kaiden. It was a sickness, as consuming as the hatred Danarius had infected him with. The man kept him from sleep more effectively than Hadriana. Fenris could not stop thinking about the red-haired mage, his wry smile and sense of humor even in the face of danger – danger which he put himself in time and again to help others. He thought of the man’s lean muscular body and the way it might feel against his own. He would grab that long red hair as he claimed him…

Fenris threw the half-empty bottle against the wall, shattering it in a splash of dark liquid. What was wrong with him? Why did he want a mage, of all things? The abomination’s words ran through his mind. _“How many times has Hawke risked his life to save your worthless hide?”_ Kaiden might deny it, but it was true. Fenris did not deserve Kaiden’s friendship, let alone anything more. He was a runaway slave living in a borrowed mansion. Kaiden may have been a Fereldan refugee, but he was descended from nobility. Since coming to Kirkwall, he had restored his family’s name and fortune. More than that, Kaiden was a good man, even if he was a mage. Fenris was not a good man. Hell, he didn’t even feel like a man much of the time, rather more like an embodiment of hatred and vengeance, like that abomination…

Cool air brushed his face. Fenris didn’t remember deciding to go out, but he owed Kaiden an apology. The stone was cold on his bare feet as he descended the stairway and followed the walkways to the Hawke estate. Hightown was quiet tonight. He sat on the bench outside the door to await Kaiden’s return. Running his hands through his white hair, he leaned back again the stone wall of the courtyard. He took a deep breath and tried to slow his heartbeat through force of will. Why had he thought coming here was a good idea?

He had almost decided to leave when Kaiden appeared at the entryway. The man looked exhausted, as if he'd gone through a decade in the course of one day. It was easy to forget how young the man was, maybe a decade younger than Fenris and the youngest of their ragtag group, yet they all looked to him for leadership. For that matter, all of Kirkwall did. Fenris remembered that they had been on their way to meet with the source of a letter imploring Kaiden’s help when the slavers had ambushed them. Had Kaiden continued on to that meeting without him?

Kaiden stopped when he saw Fenris. “I was worried about you.”

“I… was thinking about what happened with Hadriana. I owe you an apology.”

Kaiden waved a hand. “There’s no need. I understand.”

“You are generous.” Fenris rubbed the back of his neck, for once uncomfortable with silence. “You… found who sent the note?”

Kaiden nodded and walked forward, removing his traveling cloak with a grimace. “It was a templar.”

Fenris saw that Kaiden’s robe was stained with blood and he felt his chest tighten at the thought of Kaiden being attacked, and that he hadn’t been there. “A trap?”

Kaiden shook his head. “He had cornered a group of apostates in a cavern. He had hoped to end the matter without bloodshed and wanted me to talk with them.”

Fenris nodded. “But they turned to blood magic.”

Kaiden sighed. “Yes, Fenris, some of them had turned to blood magic, but not all of them. I agreed to help them escape. I had planned to tell the templar that they had all turned to blood magic and I had been forced to kill them.” He narrowed his ice-blue eyes. “Seems that would have been easily believed.”

Fenris ignored the jab. “Things never go as planned.”

“No, we left the caverns to find a whole company of templars. They forced the issue and we had to fight them.”

Fenris sprang to his feet. “You fought off a company of templars to free apostates? They’ll come after _you_ now!”

A smile crept onto Kaiden’s face. “Then I’ll slay a company of undead.”

“ _Venhedis!_ This is not a joke! You risk too much for these apostates!”

“I _am_ an apostate, Fenris.”

“But they aren’t all…” Fenris pressed a gauntleted hand against his forehead. Coming here half-drunk had been a bad idea. “This… isn’t why I came here.” He passed Kaiden as he moved to leave the courtyard.

“So you’re just going to leave?” Contact. Fenris felt the magical energy in the hand that grabbed his arm coursing along his lyrium tattoos. _He was back in Minrathaus, Danarius grabbing his arm. “Leaving so soon, my pet?”_

Fenris slammed the mage against the wall, ready to rip his heart out. Stop. He stood poised for the kill, his hand on Kaiden’s chest, and felt the man’s heartbeat quicken. He looked up, expecting to see fear or anger, but instead found desire.

* * *

Kaiden watched a storm of emotions cross the face of the elf that had him pinned to the wall. For a moment, Fenris had looked like he would kill him, then the next like he might kiss him. Now he was no longer with Kaiden but somewhere else, his eyes closed and face lined in remembered pain.

For so long, Kaiden had held himself back, had kept his emotions in check. He didn’t know what that bastard magister had done to Fenris and he wouldn’t have blamed the elf if he’d never wanted to be with a mage. When Fenris had hinted his desires might be reciprocated, Kaiden had dared to hope. Maker, he wanted the elf so badly. As much as he wanted Fenris, he was willing to be as patient as the elf needed him to be. Right now, however, he realized he needed to act, to pull Fenris from the hatred and memories threatening to overwhelm him.

Slowly, as if approaching a wild animal that might startle and flee, he raised his hand to the elf’s beautiful face. “I’m here, Fenris. Come back to me.” He brushed his fingers down Fenris’ cheek. The elf’s eyes shot open at the touch. With a snarl, he crushed Kaiden against the wall and attacked the mage’s mouth with his own.

Kaiden ceased to be aware of anything else. Fenris was pressed against him, kissing him hungrily, as if the elf had been craving this as much as he had. When he started to draw back, Kaiden spun them around so that Fenris was against the wall. No way was he letting this dream end so soon. Leaning down, he kissed the place where the lyrium tattoo curled behind the elf’s jaw. His lips tingled as the lyrium responded to him. When Fenris gasped, Kaiden drew back, fearful of causing the elf more pain. “The markings hurt you?”

The answer came out roughly. “Not now.” Fenris grabbed his hair and pulled the mage’s lips back to his throat. “Don’t stop.”

Kaiden chuckled. He certainly did not want to stop; he wanted more and more. Fenris made quiet sounds of pleasure as Kaiden continued his explorations. He felt the elf beginning to relax and respond to his touch, moving his lithe body against his and raking his hands down his back, so he asked, “Shall we take this inside?”

“If that is your wish.”

 _Yes, Maker, yes!_ There was nothing Kaiden wanted more, yet he hesitated, needing to be certain that the elf wanted it as well. “Is it yours?”

Fenris looked surprised, then grinned. “Unless you wish to scandalize your neighbors…”

Thinking of the priggish nobility with which he was forced to socialize, Kaiden returned the grin. “Well, that _is_ tempting…” Fenris laughed and shoved him toward the door.

Kaiden rejoiced to find that the rest of his household had already retired for the night. Still, it felt like it took them forever to make it to his bedroom. Why did bedrooms have to be upstairs and in the back of the house?

* * *

Fenris watched as Kaiden cast a small flame spell into the hearth, lighting the room in a soft orange glow. The bedroom was paneled in dark wood whose age gave it a dignified appearance. The four-post bed was of a matching dark wood and covered by a worn quilt sewn with patterns of mabari, the noble warrior dog of Fereldan.

Kaiden pulled his robe off his shoulders and let it fall over his arms and pool at his feet. Fenris stood transfixed by the beautiful nearly naked man before him. He was not a mage from the Circle Tower, pouring over books. He had had to work hard most of his young life and it showed. Firelight limned orange the lean muscular curves of his shoulders, waist, and round ass. The man was gorgeous. Kaiden was not a hairy man, but still had more than an elf and the slightly curled hair of his legs caught the firelight. The hair on his chest formed a “V” that pointed to the trail that began just over his navel and led down, broadening and thickening until it disappeared under his small-clothes.

The man moved like a cat, all grace and latent power. Fenris wondered how he had never noticed it before. Running his hands over Fenris's armor, Kaiden tried to find how to remove it. Fenris reached up and unfastened it himself, deftly, efficiently. It was always worse to make them wait, always worse to give them a reason for frustration. No. Fenris mentally shook himself. This was Kaiden.

Fenris was intensely aware of the cool air brushing across his now bare skin and the heat from the body of the man in front of him as Kaiden guided him to the bed. The quilt against his back was soft and smelled of sandalwood, warm and spicy, like the man who owned it. Fenris was glad that Kaiden did not smell of figs and wine. Warm skin brushed his own and he felt Kaiden’s erection press against his thigh. He started to roll over, but Kaiden stopped him with a hand to his shoulder. “Stay with me.”

Confused as to what the mage wanted, Fenris turned back to him. Kaiden met his gaze and gently kissed the lyrium markings that curled over his chin. Fenris moaned softly at the tingle of magic. Never had he thought he would enjoy that feeling, but Kaiden was a man unlike any other. Kaiden kissed the base of his neck and caressed the lyrium markings with his tongue, sending more tingles through him. Then he moved up, red hair brushing Fenris’s face as he nuzzled the elf’s ear. “You are beautiful.”

Fenris was not sure what he was supposed to do, but did not think that lying still was expected this time. He ran his hands down the broad muscles from Kaiden’s shoulders to the small of his back, enjoying the feel of warm skin against his palms. Kaiden responded by rubbing his body against his, then lifted his head to smile at Fenris. “Mmm, I like when you touch me.”

Fenris knew Kaiden had had many lovers before they met who had no doubt touched him more skillfully than he knew how. “You are generous.”

“No, I want this.” Kaiden touched the tip of his nose to his. “I want you.” He kissed the corner of Fenris’s mouth. “I want to please you.” He brushed his lips just under Fenris’s ear. “Let me worship you.”

This was madness. “I am yours.”

Kaiden trailed kisses down his body, lingering wherever Fenris responded in pleasure. He made slow progress. Magic was dancing through the lyrium. It felt like the buzz of wine, like sunlight on his skin. Kaiden continued lower and his hair swept against Fenris’s hip. Fenris felt his desire build, pulsing, painful even. He felt warm breath against him. Without thinking, he grabbed a handful of that red hair and pulled Kaiden closer. Kaiden ran his tongue up the lyrium along his shaft. Fenris gasped as pleasure arced through him. This was why the magisters… no, he would not think of that. Lifting his head, he saw Kaiden crouched over his legs, watching him, looking like a jungle cat about to pounce. Kaiden quirked a smile, then took Fenris’s cock into his mouth.

Fenris dropped back against the bed as he was plunged underwater, or pulled out of it. He’d had no idea his body was capable of such… sensation. It was overwhelming. “ _Festis bei umo canavarum._ ”

“Mmm?” Kaiden purred against him.

“It means… you will… Hawke…” He flexed his hips as his grip on Kaiden’s hair tightened. He felt Kaiden chuckle around him and it sent him over the edge, into ecstasy. He was falling, and it was exhilarating. Then all at once he plunged into a sea of memories. _He was pouring wine for Danarius's first apprentice, a man with eyes cold and dark as space. He failed to catch the crystal goblet before it shattered on the clay tiles. Then he sank deeper, into the murkiness that hid whom he had been before the ritual. Sunlight blinded him as he jumped out from behind a sheet; he was small, chasing an elven girl with red pigtails through a maze of laundry hung to dry. Then they were older, he was telling her to run as he held his master's apprentice pinned to the ground, beating him; he wouldn't let this bastard touch his sister…_

“Fenris?” He opened his eyes to see Kaiden’s face beside his, concern in those ice-blue eyes. “Are you alright?”

He forced a smile. “Better.” Kaiden returned his smile and settled on the bed beside Fenris, lightly running his fingers over the lyrium markings. Soon the lyrium was humming again. Fenris shifted. His leg brushed Kaiden’s erection and he felt the man shudder against him. A pang of guilt brought him out of his introspection. He would not be serviced like some magister. Fenris ran his hand through that red hair, now damp with perspiration. “Take me.”

Kaiden moved to look at him and Fenris saw strain in the will that easily turned down demons. “Fenris, you don’t-”

Fenris placed his fingers over Kaiden’s mouth, embarrassed by his continued solicitude. “I’m not made of glass.”

Kaiden looked away. “I didn’t mean-”

“I know, _amatus_ , and that is why I want to do this.” He drew Kaiden’s gaze back to him. “Take me. I am yours.”

* * *

When Fenris felt Kaiden pressing intimately against him, he tensed for a moment, fighting against the memories. Breathing in the man's scent helped him focus on where he was. This was Kaiden; he wanted this. The mage slowly pushed into him, waiting for him to relax before sinking deeper, and Fenris felt him gasp against his neck, “Maker, you feel so good.” As he began to move in a steady rhythm, something inside the elf responded, similar to the lyrium but different, deeper, sending waves of pleasure through his core. Kaiden began to stroke him in time with his movement, and the thrill of the added sensation built swiftly until Fenris didn't think he would be able to take it. His body was racked with ecstasy when the tension finally reached the point of release. Then, as he tumbled down from the heights of his climax, the darkness again overtook him.

_He pinned the half-elf against the wall with his body, tore through clothing that cost more than he was worth to find smooth perfect skin unmarred by slavery. This magister's son was his. He ran his teeth over that perfect neck to a subtly pointed ear, looked into dark brown eyes as the boy smiled back at him. Then he saw nothing but his master, felt nothing but the need to obey, but for just a moment he saw dark brown eyes wide with terror as he activated the lyrium..._

Fenris came back to himself with a gasp and tried unsuccessfully to repress a shudder. He felt Kaiden pull him closer and kiss the back of his neck. Grasping one of the man’s hands, Fenris tried to anchor himself to the present, to this room and this man, but something tugged at his mind. He thought he had recalled something from just after Danarius had branded him…but there was only an impression of himself that he hated. At that time, there had been nothing more to him than the will to obey. Was he fooling himself to believe that he had ever risen above that? No, he was free now, damn it. Yet here he was, lying in the arms of another mage.

Kaiden's breathing had slowed and his body had relaxed into sleep. Never before had Fenris had a lover fall asleep beside him, not that he would give Danarius nor any of his acquaintances such a generous title. He’d been thrown from the room like so much trash once they were done with him. But now he lay with his back against Kaiden and the man’s arms wrapped around him. It was strange, possessive in a way that Fenris had never experienced.

He wanted to join the mage in sleep but a growing anxiety prevented him from doing so, like the feeling he’d had when he knew the slavers were closing in on him. He moved to disentangle himself from the comfortable embrace and Kaiden shifted in his sleep to lie on his back. Fenris brushed a strand of red hair from his face. Maker, the man was beautiful. This sickness was only going to get worse. Already he hated the thought of life without Kaiden. And then there were those memories…

Fenris climbed out of bed and quietly dressed himself. He almost left then, but couldn’t bring himself to do so. Leaning against the hearth, he stared into the fire, seeking to calm himself and figure out just what he was doing.

“Was it… that bad?”

“I’m sorry, it’s not…” Fenris turned to Kaiden. “It was fine.” When Kaiden’s gaze dropped to the floor, Fenris mentally kicked himself. “No. That is insufficient. It was better than anything I could have dreamed.”

“Was it… too soon?”

“No!” He turned back to the fire and took a deep breath. “It’s… I began to remember… my life before… just flashes…”

“Your life before? What do you mean?”

“I told you, I’ve never remembered anything from before… the ritual… when Danarius… gave me these markings.” _For a moment, he was back in that dark cell, chained… the smell of blood, consuming pain…_ Fenris recoiled from the memory. Focusing his gaze on the fire, he tried to remember what he had seen this night. “There were faces… words… For just a moment, I could recall all of it… and then it slipped away. It’s too much. I cannot… do this.”

“I thought… Don’t you want to get your memories back?”

“I’ve never remembered anything. To have it all come back in a rush only to lose it… I can’t. I can’t.”

“I’m here for you, Fenris. We can work through this.”

“I’m sorry. I feel like such a fool. All I wanted was to be happy, just for a little while.” He could not look at Kaiden or his resolve would crumble. That would only make things worse – for both of them. “This should never have happened. Forgive me.”


	2. Alone

**Kirkwall – Hawke Estate**

Kaiden sat on the edge of his bed, naked, his head in his hands. What had he done? The moment had seemed right and he'd thought Fenris... No, he'd stopped thinking the moment Fenris had shoved him against the wall and kissed him.

Over the past months, things had appeared to be progressing well. Fenris had been accompanying him on more of his missions, and then there were the long talks over bottles of wine, the reading lessons… Sure, they still argued about mages and magic, but… Fenris had seemed more relaxed. He had been gradually opening up to Kaiden.

So in true Kaiden Hawke fashion, he had charged ahead and taken things from first kiss to full-on sex in less than an hour. Yet… hadn’t Fenris wanted that as well? He recalled the hunger with which the elf had kissed him, the way he responded when Kaiden caressed those lyrium markings with his tongue. Fenris had seemed every bit as starved for it as Kaiden, and he suspected that the elf had gone without far longer than he had.

Kaiden would have been willing to wait much longer. There was something about Fenris… or maybe it was everything about Fenris. From their first meeting, Kaiden had felt drawn to the exotically beautiful elf. He admired the strength and tenacity it had taken for Fenris to survive on his own in foreign lands, constantly hunted. As he had gotten to know the elf better, Kaiden had found that Fenris also possessed a keen intelligence and wit. He loved that small smile the elf would get, the way he laughed on the rare occasion he let himself relax enough to do so, and those eyes… Maker… For the first time in his life, there was no one else Kaiden wanted to be with. Holding Fenris had felt so good, so right. Kaiden had felt complete, like he hadn’t since he was a kid with his whole family alive and together.

Evidently it hadn't been that way for Fenris. Was it only the memories? Several times he had looked distant, not fully present despite Kaiden’s best efforts. Kaiden had wanted to replace bad memories, to banish the shadows that darkened those green eyes, but instead, it seemed he had only made Fenris relive… whatever had been done to him. Kaiden’s hands clenched into fists and the temperature in the room dropped several degrees. Somehow, he was going to find this Danarius and fucking kill him, but only after he’d made the bastard suffer for hurting Fenris.

Kaiden shivered, as much from anger as cold. Raising a hand, he sent a burst of flame into the fireplace. Then he was seeing Fenris at the hearth again, standing with his back to him. _“This should never have happened.”_ He’d hardly looked at Kaiden, not even when he’d walked out the door.

Kaiden couldn’t swallow past the tightness in his chest. He’d ruined it. Fenris was disgusted with himself for being with Kaiden, as if he’d willingly returned to Danarius. Was that how Fenris saw him? The thought made him sick.

Kaiden shoved himself off the bed and yanked open the wardrobe. Grabbing something that might be practical for travel, he started pulling it on. Everything hurt. His body reminded him that he’d had nothing to eat and very little sleep since yesterday’s fight with the templars. He had no desire for either.

As quietly as possible, he stepped out of his room and descended the stairs to the main floor. He was in no mood to speak to anyone. It was quite late, or very early, and the rest of his household was still in bed. An accented female voice froze him in his tracks. “Good morning, Master.”

Kaiden whipped around to see the elven girl – Orana was her name – whom they had freed from Hadriana yesterday. “Don’t call me that.” It came out rougher than he’d intended.

“I… I’m sorry…” She looked so scared and pitiful, making Kaiden feel like even more of a monster.

“No, don’t… I… it’s not your fault. Just call me Kaiden. I’m not your master. No one is. You’re free.”

This appeared to only upset her more. “You wish for me to leave?”

“No. I mean, you can if you want, but you are welcome stay here. If you wish, you can work for me. I will pay you.”

She brightened. “What shall I do, m- Kaiden?”

He smiled for her sake as he tried to think of what he would hire someone to do. Answer his mail and make appointments? Yet she probably couldn’t read… Then he recalled that he was supposed to help Anders in the clinic today. “Do you know anything about healing?”

“I can dress wounds and mix potions.”

“Perfect! I would appreciate it if you would help my friend Anders in the clinic. Tell him… tell him I’m sorry that I couldn’t make it.”

She bowed her head. “As you wish.”

While her deference still made him uncomfortable, it wasn’t fair to expect her to change completely overnight. He told her how to get to Anders’ clinic through the passage under the mansion – he certainly didn’t want her wandering around Darktown alone. After leaving a note for Bodahn to set her up with a room and anything else she might need, he took his staff and left for the Wounded Coast.

* * *

**Kirkwall – A Borrowed Mansion**

Fenris decided that it was time for him to leave Kirkwall, at least half-a-dozen times, yet he was still here, in the room which he had made his residence. Now his head was painfully lucid. At least a day had passed since he’d consumed the last of the alcohol. He didn’t know how many days he’d spent in his mansion since that night with Kaiden. It still felt like yesterday, and yet at the same time, like something from another life that was not his own.

What had he thought would happen after having sex with Kaiden? Well, not that he’d thought that would ever actually happen… Had he thought they could just get it out of their systems? Curiosity sated, that they could move on? Isn’t that what normal people did? What Kaiden had done before him? Yet, the thought of Kaiden being with anyone else now made Fenris want to break something.

That night had been at once far better and far worse than he had imagined. He had not realized his past lay in so shallow a grave. What Danarius had done to him… it was years ago. He’d thought that he’d put it behind him. Yet it was still there, part of the hatred corroding what was left of him. Even more disturbing were those other memories, pieces of himself that he had thought lost forever. He had recalled his past – he knew it – but it was gone now, just out of reach. It was a mirage at the borders of his mind, taunting him. Even now he would almost remember something, a face, a dark-haired boy who… then when he tried to recall it, it would be gone.

Maybe it would be easier if that night had only been worse, just one more thing that he did not want to remember. Then perhaps he could be rid of this accursed yearning for that red-haired mage. Yet it had not been all bad; it had been far better than he had dreamed possible. Kaiden hadn’t just had sex with him; Kaiden had made love to him. Fenris had always thought that term to be mere euphemism for fucking, and yet… Kaiden had been more concerned for Fenris’s pleasure than his own. The way the man had touched him, Maker… He wondered if Kaiden was like that with everyone. Fenris could not bring himself to think so. But what did that mean? Fenris didn’t want to be tied to anyone ever again, least of all a mage. And while he knew humans found him attractive, what more could someone like Kaiden possibly see in him? It could never happen. Fasta vass. Such thoughts were foolish.

Raising a hand to his head, he noticed the red sash tied around his arm. He had to stare at it for several moments before he remembered tying it around his wrist in Kaiden's bedroom. He couldn't have said why he'd taken it.

_“I’m here for you, Fenris.”_ Closing his eyes, he brought the red sash to his face. It still smelled faintly of Kaiden. More than anything, he wanted the man’s arms around him again, to feel safe and… He stood abruptly, then leaned against a wall as a dizzying wave of nausea washed over him. Once his vision cleared, he walked over to the desk where he had started several letters to Varania while fairly sober. He frowned at one that was hardly legible. Well, not all of them apparently. Skimming the pages he had written, he tossed those that displeased him into the hearth. They would make for good kindling later. Once he'd found a draft that met his approval, he set about rewriting it, carefully forming each letter. Then he was recalling Kaiden showing him how to do it. He was seeing those elegant fingers wielding the pen with swift sure strokes, the way one moves through a sword kata.

He decided that the previous draft was good enough and folded it into an envelope. Varric would know how to get the letter to his… sister. The thought still took getting used to. Perhaps if he could reclaim some part of his past, he could finally move on.

* * *

**Tevinter**

“Varania!”

Varania jumped, causing her needle to slip through the tunic she was mending and into her finger. Quickly withdrawing her hand lest she stain the blue cloth, she pressed her thumb over the injury and released her healing magic. It felt good – not so much the healing of a minor hurt as having a rare outlet for her magic.

Standing from her bench, she looked over the barrels of tubers, apples, and other victuals to the entrance of the common workroom. One of the young elven slaves stood in the doorway. “Come! Master Ahriman demands your presence!”

Varania froze. She knew why Ahriman ordered the presence of any of his female staff and she had tried her best to be beneath his notice. She felt suddenly lightheaded and wished she would pass out. How else could she avoid going? While she wasn't a slave, the Imperium would turn a blind eye to anything a magister might wish to do with his elven servants. Desperately, she looked around at the other slaves and servants, but they kept their heads bowed to their work. And why shouldn't they? Had not she done the same? There was nothing any of them could do.

The girl in the doorway huffed. “Come on! We can't keep him waiting!”

Making Ahriman wait would not help anything. Numbly, Varania placed her work on the bench and crossed the workroom to follow the girl through the narrow corridor past the kitchen and into the courtyard at the heart of the villa. The air was noticeably fresher in the courtyard and the tiny ceramic tiles were cool against her bare feet. Around the garden, the tiles were arranged in colorful mosaics depicting flowers, animals, and half-dressed women of several races. Varania thought it fitting that Ahriman would have beauty displayed underfoot where he could walk on it.

When she was led not to Ahriman's living quarters, but instead down the hallway to the atrium, Varania let out a sigh of relief. At the entrance to the atrium, her escort stopped and stood to the side, her head bowed. Accustomed to using the servants' entrance, Varania rarely saw the atrium and was again struck by the cold austerity of the room. The only adornment was the four fluted columns which stood at the corners of the square pool in the center of the atrium. Above the pool, a matching square opening in the roof let in the afternoon sunlight. It glinted off the shallow water, making the rest of the room seem dark in comparison. On the other side of the pool, Ahriman appeared to be little more than a shadow. Another shadow stood beside him and from the apparent lack of deference, Varania guessed that it was another magister.

Varania wondered if they could hear her heartbeat from across the room. Deciding not to approach any closer than necessary, she knelt before the pool across from the shadowy figures. She knew that at this angle the sunlight would cast harsh shadows across her face, making her pale features appear gaunt and her eyes pools of darkness. “You summoned me, Master?”

Ahriman did not deem to reply to her but instead spoke to the stranger. “I'll leave her to you.” The shadows moved around the pool and then Varania heard Ahriman and the elven girl walking down the hallway behind her, back toward the main courtyard. Trepidation heightened again to fear as she wondered what the unknown magister wanted with her.

She nearly jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. The stranger's voice was firm, yet not unkind. “Rise, my child. You are not slave, but liberati, and have the potential to be more.”

Lifting her head, she dared a glance at the man’s face. She could make out little in the dim light besides his dark gray hair and beard, but he was smiling at her, kindly, not the lecherous smile of Ahriman. “What do you wish of me, Magister?”

He extended a hand to her and she took it, disconcerted by this unexpected courtesy. As he helped her to her feet, he watched her face expectantly. “Do you not recognize me? I know you were but a girl-”

All at once she recognized her former master, the man whose household she had been born into. It was the only place she had ever been happy. “Danarius!” Immediately, Varania was chagrined to have interrupted him and blurted his name without title, but the magister only smiled.

“Yes, my dear. You’ve grown into a lovely woman, so much like your mother. Tell me, how is she?”

“She… died, many years ago… not long after…” Her mother had passed soon after they had been cast from their home in Danarius’s mansion at the behest of her brother. Time had done little to dull the pain. Varania had learned early what “freedom” really meant. It was not the dream so many slaves cherished. It meant homelessness, destitution and having no one to protect you.

Danarius frowned. “It grieves me to hear this. To be alone so young… why did you not return? I would have helped you.”

“I tried. Leto… he pretended not to know me. He wouldn’t even let me approach you.”

Danarius shook his head. “I should have seen it. Leto was jealous of your emerging magical talents.”

“You knew?”

“Of course, my dear. I had intended to train you, but I had promised the winner whatever boon they requested.” Danarius was speaking of the matches he had arranged to select his personal bodyguard. In addition to the boon, the winner had been given a magnificent suit of armor and great power in the form of magical tattoos. Leto had won the competition. Although still a teenager, he was already a skilled swordsman and tenacious fighter. Varania remembered looking up to her big brother, trusting him to protect her. Then he had betrayed her.

Varania had not thought that she could feel more bitterness, but this was just one more thing that Leto had taken from her. She had lost her home, her mother, and apparently, even the opportunity to use her magic.

“I recall you had natural ability with the creation school of magic.”

Varania struggled to bring her thoughts back to the present. “I… a little.”

Danarius pointed out a beetle crawling up one of the pillars. “You see this insect?” Varania nodded. “Now, imagine yourself as a spider. Focus on creating a zone of no movement around it, a web that shall paralyze the first thing to breach it.” Danarius guided her hands through the weave of the spell as she focused her thoughts. All at once Varania felt like she'd finally released a breath she'd been holding for too long. She stared at the beetle in disbelief as it did not move for several minutes. Danarius smiled. “That was well done. Not many are successful on the first try. Your gift is strong.”

Varania blinked back tears. “I wish…”

“That you could learn to use your gift?”

Varania stared at him, hardly daring to hope. “Is that… could I?”

“Return with me to Minrathous, Varania, and I shall make you my apprentice.”

* * *

**Kirkwall**

Along the road from his clinic in Kirkwall's undercity to Lowtown, Anders enjoyed the feel of a brisk autumn breeze against his face. The air was almost fresh, the constant reek of fish for once no more than an undertone. He needed to get outside the city more often, get some good clean air and see the trees bedecked in their autumn hues. Turning down a side street, he suddenly caught the scent of fresh apple pie and grinned. Not all the smells of the city were bad.

A hand on his wrist and cold steel at his throat froze him in his tracks. For a moment, his mind blanked. Then he recognized the hand gripping him and the scent of the woman behind him. “Isabela...”

The cold metal left his throat even as the warm body pressed closer against his back. “What's a defenseless mage doing out all alone at night? You're lucky it's me.”

“I was just deciding whether I had rather freeze you or sear you to a crisp. You're lucky I _knew_ it was you.”

She snorted. “I robbed you blind.” It took Anders a moment to grasp the past tense of her statement. Then he felt her hand slip into his robe and _return_ his coin purse to the pocket he'd thought it had been safe in.

He shook his head. “Clearly I need to ward my robes.” He turned to face the dark-haired beauty. The chilly evening had induced her to wear a leather coat over her usually risqué attire. The soft brown leather hugged her curves and the sides of the coat were slit high enough to allow a glimpse of skin above her thigh-high boots.

She arched a brow. “If you can, you had better. Varric is right about you mages. Your head must be half in the Fade for how oblivious you all are.”

Her statement hit closer to the mark than she probably knew. A mage's powers came from the Fade, as did the demons who sought to possess them. It was one of the justifications given for the Chantry's seeking to imprison every mage in the Circle. Anders frowned. “If that's true, it's only because one doesn't learn street skills while locked away in a tower.”

Isabela sighed as she sheathed her knife. “Not _that_ again. Besides, Kaiden was raised outside the Circle and he's as easy a mark as you.” She quirked a smile. “Even easier nowadays. I swear he's dreaming of that elf when he's not staring after him.”

Mention of Fenris grated Anders almost as much as templars and the Circle. Kaiden hadn't told him much but it had been enough. He knew Fenris had gone to Kaiden after the confrontation with Hadriana. He knew the elf had used Kaiden and then tossed him aside like a whore. It would have been bad enough if the elf had had the decency to actually leave afterward, but no, he still hung around like a stray dog looking for scraps.

Isabela moved around him to continue down the alley and pulled at his arm to follow. “You should have seen the two of them today at the Wounded Coast! Ugh, the sexual tension is killing me! I tried to convince Varric we should lose them in a cave or drop them in a pit... Then watch and make sure they make up!” She laughed.

Anders had had about all he could take of this conversation. “Isabela...”

She ignored him, evidently set on sharing her fantasy. “Kaiden is _amazing_ and Fenris... that taut controlled body, that brooding demeanor, mmm... I offered to _personally_ help them make up, but no... Since when did Kaiden become the jealous sort? Wait...” She punched his arm. “I got it!”

“What?” The word came more out of surprise than any desire to know what she was thinking.

“It's the lyrium! Isn't it supposed to be addictive? Fenris is engraved with the stuff. Maybe it's even in his-”

“No! Ugh...” Anders brought a hand to his head and rubbed his temples. “No, it doesn't work like that.”

“How would you know? Did you.... wait... so _that's_ why you and Fenris hate each other so... _passionately!_ ”

“What? Maker's breath, woman, are you crazy? I'd just as soon... screw a templar!” Anders couldn't decide which idea he found more revolting.

“Well aren't you full of surprises!”

“Damn it, Isabela! I... honestly, how could you be with someone who hates what you are?” He sighed. “Kaiden deserves better than that.” He regretted the words the moment he'd spoken them. As aggravating as it was, he could handle Isabela teasing him for imagined interests. He couldn't let her discover what he denied even to himself.

“That's it...” Her tone caught Anders off guard. This time it wasn't a gleeful exclamation. She’d said the words softly, almost sadly. “It's Kaiden.”

_Every night I lie awake, aching for him._ Anders pushed the thought away. “He's my friend. I don't want to see him hurt.”

She gave him a look, but did not call him out on that. “As a wise man once said, 'Life is pain. Anyone who says differently is selling something.'”

“I can't decide whether that's profound... or just sad.” Anders was surprised to see that they were already at the Lowtown tavern that had become the group's meeting place. He really was lost in thought more than was prudent.

Isabela sighed. “Yeah, well, enough of that. I need something stiff... and a drink.” She winked at him as she pushed open the tavern door. “You might try the same.”


	3. Snow Day

**Tevinter – Minrathous**

Varania had come to realize that the ground floor of Danarius's mansion was a museum, or rather a stage, set with all the props for entertaining important guests and conducting business. It still felt like home to her, but it was precisely because none of the tapestries, rugs, sculpture, nor indeed anything else in the place had changed in the decade since last she'd lived here. In the months since she had returned, she had learned that it was because, unlike Ahriman, Danarius had no interest in the latest fashions. He displayed what was expected to maintain his image, but his interests were elsewhere, in the underground levels of the mansion where he poured over tomes and studied the arcane arts. It was one more thing that Varania admired about the man.

Her heartbeat quickened as she descended the winding stairway to the lower levels. It had been strictly off-limits for her as a child and even after six months as Danarius's apprentice, she still felt like she was getting a taste of the forbidden when she descended into the heart of the mansion.

She entered Danarius's laboratory, dimly lit by runes inscribed in the stone ceiling. A command word would make them glow brighter, but Varania preferred to view the luminescent lyrium in the dark. Several vials of it were set on a workbench, emitting a faint bluish-white glow. Then there were four vials of different colors: orange, blue, green, and purple. Danarius had spent years modifying the lyrium to resonate with the four schools of magic: elemental, spiritual, creation and entropy.

She crossed the laboratory and entered her master's study. Here the runes cast warm light that made the room feel like it was lit by a hearth. Shelves of books and ancient tomes lined the walls. As she circled around the large mahogany desk in the center of the room, a letter with her name on it grabbed her eye. She was still working on her reading, but she knew enough to see that it had been first sent to Ahriman and then redirected here. She had never received correspondence while working for Ahriman and couldn't think of who would have written her.

Curious, she picked up the letter and turned it over in her hands. The paper was of indifferent quality and the penmanship was uneven and child-like, yet the letter had been sealed with an expensive wax. That seal had been broken. Now more curious than ever, Varania carefully unfolded the single page. The writing within was by the same hand as the address and difficult for Varania to make out, but at the top was again clearly written her name.

A hand on her arm yanked her back and spun her around, face to face with Danarius. “What are you doing?!”

Varania’s exclamation of surprise froze in her throat and now threatened to choke her. She had not seen her master angry before and his expression was not one of rage but of hardness and somehow that frightened her even more. Her body seemed to move of its own accord and she felt herself fall back into Danarius’s desk, toppling a stack of books as she fell to the floor, finally knocking the exclamation from her and she was able to breathe again. “Master! I’m sorry, I didn’t read it, I…”

Then Danarius was kneeling beside her and healing magic soothed bruises she had not yet become aware of. “Shhh, forgive me, child.” The anger was completely gone now. “I did not want you to find out that way.”

“Find out what? Who wrote to me?”

“Your brother.”

Varania was stunned. After all these years… What could he possibly have to say to her? Did he think to finally make amends? Varania was surprised at how hopeful that thought made her. Or, hearing that she was now apprenticed to a magister, did he write from wherever he was hiding to ask for money? But the letter had been sent to Ahriman’s estate…

“He has spent the past year in southern Thedas, in the region now called the Free Marches.”

Varania knew little about the barbarian lands in the south, except that winters were long and cold. Her thoughts whirled between trying to figure out what had angered her master and why her brother had written her. Then her thoughts turned to whether he had been disillusioned by freedom as much as she had. “Is he… happy there?”

Danarius sighed. “He grew up in my household and trained as my bodyguard – he knew nothing else. The world is a harsh place for those who cannot make it on their own.”

Varania knew that all too well. She felt a growing anxiety for her brother. “What happened?”

“A so-called nobleman has claimed Fenris as his own.”

“Claimed… But I thought slavery was illegal outside Tevinter?”

“The law means little in the barbarian lands, especially for an elf far from home.”

Even more distressing than Danarius’s words, his look implied there was worse that he was not saying. “Can you help him?”

Danarius smiled. “You have agreed to meet with Fenris in Kirkwall. Thinking you have come alone, his new master should let down his guard, enabling us to safely bring Fenris home.”

Varania was uncomfortable with how much this sounded like a trap, but it was a trap for this nobleman, not Fenris. What sort of man was this who was powerful enough to capture her brother and even made her master approach with caution?

“We set sail in a fortnight.” Danarius turned to straighten the books and papers on his desk, making clear her dismissal. Varania realized the futility of her consternation on the matter. She did not have to reach a decision; it had already been made for her. There was no choice.

* * *

**Kirkwall – Hightown**

Winter was not shy in its arrival this year, and the first snowfall was a blizzard that lasted a whole day and night. Kaiden walked out into the courtyard the following morning, enjoying the uncustomary quiet. No vendors would open shop today. A single row of nearly filled-in footprints left by the city patrol were all that disturbed the sparkling blanket of white. The snow was still coming down, now in large, lazy flakes. Leaning his head back, Kaiden caught one on his tongue. For a moment, he felt like a boy again and was back in Fereldan, romping with his brother and sister around snowdrifts, throwing snowballs at each other. Later, Mother would call them in from the cold with mugs of hot apple cider.

Hearing the crunch of snow, Kaiden turned to see Fenris crossing the open Hightown square. His lean black figure looked stark in the vast field of white. The only color was a splash of red – a sash Fenris had been wearing since that night now almost a year ago. Kaiden thought that it had come from one of his robes and, not for the first time, he wondered what it meant.

Fenris stopped at the entrance to the Hawke Estate and folded his arms across his chest. “You seem… happy.” He stated it as if Kaiden was being irrational.

“The snow…” Kaiden stopped himself. Should he tell Fenris that it brought good memories? Reminded him of home? Things that Fenris didn’t have? “It snowed.”

The corner of Fenris’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Yes, Hawke, I can see that. This is not my first winter in Kirkwall.” Those who didn’t know the elf might have thought him irritated, but Kaiden could both see and hear the smile that underlay his words. That smile. He realized then how much he had missed it. It made him feel giddy. On a whim, he crouched and started packing snow into a ball. Fenris raised an eyebrow. “Do you still plan on going out to the Bone Pit today?”

“In this? Maker, no, it’s a snow day!”

“A snow day?”

“After a blizzard, when the snow’s all piled up, work is put on hold. Instead, you stay home by the fire, read a good book, and drink some hot chocolate. Or you play in the snow.”

“Hmm, we did not have snow days in Tevinter.”

“Well, then I shall have to initiate you.” Kaiden chucked the snowball at Fenris, who leapt out of the way as if Kaiden had thrown one of Varric’s grenades at him. “It’s called a snowball fight!” Kaiden grinned and proceeded to form snow into another. Fenris stared at him a moment before returning his smile and crouching to gather snow himself. Kaiden threw another snowball at Fenris, and this one burst apart on the elf’s dark leather armor. “Too slow!”

Fenris narrowed his eyes at him. “I think I must deal with snowballs as I deal with spells.”

“Oh?” Kaiden paused, wary of the elf’s reference to magic.

“I must stop them from being cast.” Quick as lightning, Fenris charged, tackled him into the snowbank, and pinned his hands on either side of his head. “Now what will you do?”

Kaiden didn’t wish to do anything, least of all anything to stop Fenris – not that he could have as the elf was surprisingly strong. It had been months since Fenris had so much as touched him. Now the elf had his leg over his and was gripping his wrists. “I’ve missed you.”

Fenris looked aside, to where he held one of Kaiden’s wrists pinned in the snow. “I… I’ve been thinking about you.” Large green eyes met his ice-blue. “I’ve been able to think of little else.”

Fenris was closer to him now, and Kaiden could feel the elf’s body against him, could feel his desire. His face was inches above Kaiden's, green eyes framed with snow-white hair. Kaiden felt Fenris’s breath on his lips, could taste it. Maker, he wanted the elf so badly, but he would not make that mistake again. “Fenris…” He barely heard his own voice. “I need to understand… why you left…”

Fenris smiled at him then, so beautiful and sad. “I know, _amatus_.”

Kaiden started to say something but Fenris released a hand and placed his fingers over his mouth. Kaiden kissed those fingers even as he fought the urge to use his now free arm to pull the elf to him fully. Fenris said, “I will… try… Shall we… It is cold out here.”

“Oh.” Kaiden cleared his throat. He didn’t feel cold and was sure he would not have noticed if he was. “Yes, let’s go inside.”

* * *

Kaiden had gone to the kitchen to get them something to eat, leaving Fenris to warm himself before the large granite fireplace in the main room. Standing again before a hearth in Kaiden’s home brought him back to that night last spring – not that it was ever far from his thoughts – and Fenris wondered what he was doing here. He had come with the intent of helping Kaiden investigate the mine north of Kirkwall, not anything else. Things had just… happened. Now what was he going to tell Kaiden? He had left because he was afraid of needing anyone and he was just waiting for Kaiden to move on, to break both his heart and his obsession with the man. Fenris pushed such thoughts out of his mind and began pacing, hating the feelings at war within him. He should leave, now, before… Fenris stopped, catching sight of a manuscript on the low table before the fire. Even without reading it, he recognized the accursed thing; he had seen too many drafts of Anders’ “manifesto” not to. Snarling, he crumbled the pages and tossed them into the hearth.

The deep bark of Kaiden’s mabari hound interrupted Fenris’s brooding. It was coming from down the hallway Kaiden had taken and Fenris walked over to discover the cause of the raucous. He saw Kaiden emerge from the kitchen, bread in his hand, and mouth full. Orana was right behind him, snapping a towel at him, powdering his robe with flour. “No tasting the bread before it’s done!” Kaiden’s mabari bounded out of the kitchen then, barking. “See? He knows the rules.”

Kaiden was laughing as he held up an arm to ward off the towel. “You bribe him!”

“I _reward_ him for good behavior!” The war-dog planted his large paws on Kaiden’s chest, pinning him to the wall. Orana ceased the opportunity to snatch back the loaf, smiling triumphantly. She spotted Fenris then and curtsied. “Good morning, mesere. Breakfast shall be ready shortly.” Fenris could only stare, dumbfounded. The mabari gave Kaiden a final woof before trotting back into the kitchen where Fenris could hear Orana praising his performance.

Kaiden walked over to him, trying in vain to brush the flour off his robe. Fenris found his voice. “She’s… changed.” It was an understatement. There was no trace of the timid slave they’d freed from Hadriana.

Kaiden nodded. “Merrill has been teaching her things, Isabela and Anders too. Sometimes I think I picked the wrong teachers.” Kaiden affected a grimace, but Fenris could see that he was delighted with Orana’s pluckishness.

Fenris was overwhelmed by a desire to be the reason behind that wry smile. He wanted… he didn’t know what he wanted, except that it involved Kaiden. Grabbing a fistful of the man’s red hair, he pulled him into a kiss. His lips tasted of cinnamon and sugar. When Fenris opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, Kaiden instead pulled back. “Fenris…”

“Not now, Hawke.” Fenris didn’t want to think anymore. Tightening his grip in Kaiden’s hair, he resumed the kiss and this time Kaiden offered no resistance. Fenris ravaged the other man’s mouth with his tongue, savoring his taste, his scent, the feel of lips and teeth and tongue against his own. Fenris liked this being in control and feeling how Kaiden responded to him, returning his desire. It was intoxicating. He shoved Kaiden back against the wall and pressed his body against the other man’s. Even with all the damned layers of clothing still between them, feeling Kaiden’s cock rub against his sent pleasure radiating through him and he realized it wouldn't take much more for him to climax.

A crash sounded in the kitchen and Orana cried out in alarm. Fenris jumped back and they both ran to the kitchen to face whatever villain and found… Anders apologizing to Orana. Never before had Fenris wanted so badly to throttle the abomination.

“What happened?”

Orana turned to Kaiden. “I’m so sorry to have alarmed you! The door just…”

“It’s my fault,” Anders interrupted. “I’m afraid my entrance was rather abrupt.”

“Anders, what happened? Did the templars-”

Fenris felt increasingly irritated at the concern in Kaiden’s voice.

“No, the clinic is safe, for now. It’s Ser Alrik.”

“You found evidence?”

“Of his ‘tranquil solution’? Not yet. But I’ve received word that he’s going to make another mage tranquil and…” Anders’ eyes started to glow blue as they did whenever the spirit of justice he was possessed with took over. “He likes to torture mages first.”

“Shit. Anders, calm down and we’ll figure something out. Surely the Knight Commander would not allow this if he knew. He-”

“No!” Anders closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “No, there is no time.”

“If they’re in the Gallows, what else can we do?”

“I know a way in through the underground tunnels.”

Kaiden looked surprised, but to Fenris’s irritation, he did not inquire further and merely nodded. “I’ll get my staff.” Fenris knew that voice. There would be no point in trying to convince him that storming the Gallows was madness. He said nothing as Kaiden left but glowered at the abomination.

Anders scowled at him then, seeming to just now notice his presence. “What are you doing here?”

“I came through the front door. Where did _you_ come from?”

Anders held up a key and smirked. “I have a key, to the _back_ door.”


	4. Monsters

**Kirkwall – Gallows Dungeon**

Kaiden leaned heavily on his staff next to the remains of the late Ser Alrik and his templars. They had expected to face Ser Alrik and perhaps a guard or two but this… it had been more like an ambush. Pain lingered where a templar hunter’s blade had run him through. If Fenris hadn’t been there… It didn’t take his training as a healer to know that it was only the quick administration of a potion that had kept him alive.

“Hawke.” Fenris’s voice held warning. Kaiden followed the elf’s gaze to where Anders was looking around, eyes ablaze, seeming to expect more templar hunters to materialize.

His voice was still the roar of Justice. “Where are they? I will kill every last Templar for these abuses!”

“Anders, calm down. It’s over. They’re all dead.”

“All shall feel the wrath of Justice!”

As his gaze passed over the girl they had come to rescue, the girl shielded her face with her arms. “Get away from me, demon!”

“I am no demon! Are you one of them, that you would call me such?”

Alarmed, Kaiden went to Anders and grabbed his shoulder. “Get ahold of yourself! That girl is a mage! She-”

Anders shook him off. “She is theirs! I can feel their hold on her!” His eyes blazed brighter and he started to raise his staff.

Kaiden grabbed Anders’ arms and shoved him back against the wall. “Anders, no! She’s who you’re fighting to save!”

Anders twisted his hand so that the end of his staff was against Kaiden’s temple. Kaiden felt a chill run down his spine. It would not take much, just a burst of magic from the staff and no healing potion would save him. Blazing eyes narrowed. “Do you stand in the way of Justice, mortal?”

“This is not justice! I will not let you hurt her.” Kaiden leaned closer, searching those inhuman eyes for some trace of his friend. “Will you now kill two mages? You’re a good man, Anders. Please, don’t do this.”

The blaze about Anders intensified and Kaiden felt electric magic at his temple, sending a tingling sensation across his face. He fought the urge to turn away. If this was to be his last moment, he wished he could have at least had his snow day with Fenris.

All at once the glow dissipated and the staff clattered to the floor. Anders went limp. Catching him, Kaiden pulled the mage against him. He took a deep breath and held it a moment before exhaling. “Anders?”

After a moment, Anders lifted himself from Kaiden. He looked dazed. “Kaiden?” He looked around, taking in the sight of the dead templars. “Maker, no, I almost…”

“But you didn’t, Anders. She’s fine. You saved her.”

“If you hadn’t been here… Kaiden, I almost… Justice wanted to kill you.”

Kaiden heard Fenris growl behind him. “What fine company you keep.”

“Fenris!” Maker, he loved the elf, but these two had a horrible tendency to kick the other when they were down.

Anders looked so broken, it hurt Kaiden to see his friend this way. He put his hands on the other mage’s shoulders. “Stay strong. You can control this.”

Anders met his eyes then, no longer unearthly-blue but warm honey-brown. “I could not have lived with myself if I had…” Anders started to raise a hand to Kaiden’s face, then suddenly stepped back and looked away.

“But you didn’t. I’m-”

“No! I…” Anders picked up his staff and started toward the stairs. “I have to get out of here.”

“Anders?”

But Anders did not stop. He walked up the stairs and out the door into the tunnel that lead back to Darktown.

Kaiden sighed and turned to the girl who was now sitting on a crate against the wall. “I’m sorry that you had to see that after… everything.”

“Is he an abomination?”

Kaiden exchanged a silent glare with Fenris before answering the girl. “No, he is not. He’s a good man, but… sometimes one does the wrong thing for the right reasons.”

The girl frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Kaiden squatted before the girl, meeting her large dark eyes. “It was not a demon, but a good spirit, a spirit of justice, and he wanted to help it. But, even with both of their good intentions, possession is not meant to be. It has… warped them.”

The girl looked at him intently. “I understand, serah, and I promise I will never bargain with any being of the Fade. I wasn’t doing anything of the sort! I just wanted to see my mother.”

“I know. If it were up to me, you would be together. But the templars…” Kaiden sighed. “It is not safe, you know it would not be, not for you nor for her.”

The girl nodded. “I know, serah. I just wish…”

“I can take a letter to her, let her know you’re alright.”

Her eyes widened. “You would do that for me?” When Kaiden nodded, she beamed. “Thank you! Thank you, serah!” She stood and pulled a letter from her cloak. “I wrote one just in case… just in case I couldn’t make it that far.”

Kaiden took the letter, committing to memory the directions she gave him. They guided her to the stairway that would take her back to the mages’ living quarters.

Kaiden was left alone then with Fenris. Alas, it was not the way that he had wished to be so this day. Silence stretched between them. “Fenris…”

“Are we going now, Hawke? Or do you wish to stick around and wait for more templars?”

Kaiden winced. “No, yes, let’s go.” He followed Fenris up the stairwell that would take them back into the Undercity. Although the elf’s anger did not manifest itself magically the way Kaiden’s did, he would have sworn he could actually feel it. They had almost reached the hatch when he could take it no more. “Surely you’re not going to defend the templars’ actions…”

“No, Hawke. That man was vile. I do not regret killing him.”

“What then?” Fenris didn’t respond. “By the Void, just yell at me at get it over with, would you?”

Fenris turned on him then. “Coming here was reckless! Did you not wonder how that abomination knew?”

“You think this was a trap to get Anders?”

“Are you really so surprised? He’s an abomi-”

“Stop calling him that!”

“Does it offend you to call your precious Anders what-”

“My…. Is that what this is about? Do you really hate-”

“I know what you are, Hawke.” Fenris’s expression was no longer angry so much as… penetrating.

It took a moment for Kaiden to realize that the discussion had moved beyond Anders and abominations to mages in general, or at least he thought that was what the elf was talking about. Would Fenris forever hold that against him? “I have never denied it, Fenris.”

Fenris’s expression turned sad then. “No. No, you have not.”

* * *

**Tevinter – Minrathous**

Sadius wound his way through the predawn streets of Minrathous. It was not the wealthiest part of town, where one might expect to find the residence of a preeminent magister such as Danarius, that is, unless you knew Danarius. It was an old part of town and well-fortified from the times of war with the elves or barbarians or some shit. Sadius had never cared much for history.

His feet seemed to carry him forward of their own accord and soon he was standing at the gate outside a squat tower. He hated the way his heart seemed to flutter in his throat. Fade take him, he was an altus and now a full-fledged mage. Yet here he was, returning from Marnus Pell having carried out the demands of his former master. Right. Former master.

At least _she_ would not be there. Always so condescending, Hadriana had even mocked _him_ , and he couldn’t make her bleed for it because she was Danarius’s apprentice and so he couldn’t touch her. Well now she had died at the hand of a lowly slave. It was ironic. So beautifully fucking ironic.

The guard at the gate let him in without a word. A young slave was there to lead him down the hall toward the dining room. The walls were still plain, of course, except for the faded tapestries Sadius suspected had hung there since before Danarius had inherited the tower. It was not because his former master had no eye for beauty. Sadius’s gaze returned to the lithe elven boy he was following and he absently rubbed the corners of his mouth.

When Sadius walked in, Danarius rose from his breakfast and came around the table to greet him. Sadius stood in stunned silence as his master clasped his shoulders and gave a light kiss to his cheek. “Welcome home, darling!” He felt his calm shatter, heard the pieces fall around him, shattering like crystal on the stone floor. Their dance had changed and he was no longer certain of the steps.

Danarius laughed. “My dear, you are trembling! You must be famished from your journey. Have some pastries. They are your favorite.”

Sadius let himself be led to the table and sat down in the chair pulled out for him. When one of the slaves lifted a croissant to his lips, he obediently took a bite. It turned to sawdust in his mouth. Watching Danarius return to his place at the table, he tried to determine his master’s game. The man took a drink of what Sadius knew would be a sparkling cider imported from Antiva.

“I am going on a trip, Sadius. I wish for you to take care of things while I am away.”

“Of course.”

“I expect to not have to replace too many of my slaves when I return but… I could stand for a change in landscaping.”

Sadius didn’t let his annoyance show. At least the anger was familiar and brought some calm to the chaos in his mind. “How long do you expect to be away?”

“I’m going to Kirkwall.”

Sadius tried to recall where that was. It must be part of the barbarian lands…

Evidently noticing his confusion, Danarius chuckled, “It’s a mining camp in the south, now calling itself a city-state of the Free Marches.”

Now Sadius remembered. “You’re going after Fenris?” He had never understood his master’s obsession with that damned slave.

“Yes, we’re bringing him home at last.” As Sadius wondered what Danarius meant by ‘we,’ the magister turned toward one of the hallways opening into the dining room and smiled. “Varania, join us. Perhaps you will remember my former apprentice, Sadius.”

Sadius gaped as the red-haired girl came to the table. Of all the unlikely events in Thedas, his master had taken an _elf_ as an apprentice. Her eyes were olive-green and reminded him of Fenris. Suddenly, he was remembering almost twenty years ago, one of his master's slaves, an elven girl with bright red pigtails who had looked at him without fear. He would have taught her, but then her brother – Fenris – had interfered.

Varania was looking at him strangely and Sadius realized he had not been paying attention. Danarius frowned at him and then was all charm for Varania. “You’ll have to excuse Sadius. He’s only just returned from Marnus Pell and is liable to collapse from exhaustion.”

“Of course!” She offered him a sympathetic smile before indicating to the attending slave that she would like some fruit salad. Remembering his pastry, Sadius took another bite without tasting it as he watched her. He wondered what part she would play in this dance.

* * *

**The Fade**

_Wake up, wake up, wake up!_ Feynriel shut his eyes and then opened them again, but he was still huddled under a table in his mother's house. No, he was only _dreaming_ that he was back home in Kirkwall. He was really with the Dalish elves, asleep in his tent. He knew that. So why couldn't he wake up?

“Why are you hiding, Feynriel? Come with me to Antiva.” The accent was Antivan, just like the human merchant who was his father, but that man would never make him such an offer. “It's what you've always wanted, isn't it?

“You're not my father. I know what you are, demon. Your disguise isn't even as good as the others'.”

The thing made a sound like a hiss. It flung the table aside and Feynriel saw that the demon had reverted to her true form. Seizing his arms, the demon pulled him to his feet and snarled. “Ungrateful child!”

Feyrniel could only stare into the demon’s obsidian-black eyes, at once mesmerized and terrified by eyes with no soul behind them, only a bottomless darkness into which he felt in danger of falling. Then the demon pulled back. Her eyes changed, becoming an iridescent purple with slit-like pupils that reminded Feynriel of a snake’s eyes. The fiendish anger left her face and she again appeared beautiful, even with purple skin and a pair of horns curling from her forehead.

The room had faded away and Feynriel saw that they were on a balcony of a great tower made from black obsidian. All around them the sky was an ominous orange and far below them stretched the landscape of the Fade, constantly changing, so as to appear more like a dark sea.

Releasing him, the demon stepped back. “So now you see my true form.” Her voice had lost its edge and was now sinuous and sensual. “I doubt you shall find other demons so appealing, hmm?” As her hands caressed the curves of her nearly naked body, Feynriel told himself that he did not find her at all appealing. He knew what she was, yet looking at her made his blood rush and his heartbeat quicken. Even while dreaming, his body betrayed him. She seemed aware of her effect on him and her dark purple lips twisted into a smile. “Consider your options, mortal. Eventually, you shall succumb to one of us. _I_ could make it pleasant for you. I could give you _all_ that you desire.”

Shutting his eyes, Feynriel shook his head. “No, NO! I would rather die than be possessed by any of you!”

There was a moment of silence, and then he felt her breath against his ear. “As you wish.” Her hand slammed into his chest, knocking the air from him, sending him careening back into space, he saw the dark land below now above him, then the tower, the demon looking down at him from the balcony now so far away. He was falling to his death. _No! It's a dream! Wake up! WAKE UP!_


	5. Blondie and Broodie

**Kirkwall – Hightown**

Kaiden stood in front of the door to Fenris’s mansion. While he knew it would be open – and he really hated that the elf refused to have the locks replaced – he didn’t like barging in. He would knock first, even though Fenris seldom responded. He had just grabbed the wrought iron knocker when he heard what could only be a string of curses in Tevinter followed by Aveline’s raised voice. Kaiden groaned. He could not make out her words, but he could well guess the topic. Damn. Did Aveline really have to bother Fenris about replacing the shutters or some such today? Surely the captain of the guard must have more important tasks than enforcing Hightown’s building codes. Sighing, Kaiden opened the door.

Aveline was walking, no, marching, toward the door, her mouth and eyebrows set in lines that underscored a decision having been made. She paused in passing him. “You talk to him, Hawke. I’ve had my fill for today.” The door slammed shut behind her and Kaiden turned to the main room, where Fenris was leaning on the table in front of the hearth.

As Kaiden walked into the room, Fenris slammed gauntletted fists into the table, adding two more indentations. “ _Venhedis!_ ”

“I’m sure Varric has contacts in construction, maybe even dwarves. It might be nice to fix that leak before the snow melts…” Kaiden looked up at the cobwebbed ceiling and then around at the broken furniture and shards of wine bottles. “…and while you’re at it, perhaps some redecorating wouldn’t hurt either.”

“What? No, that wasn’t…” Fenris raked his hands through his hair. “I asked Aveline to investigate a ship.”

Kaiden suddenly found himself unable to breathe. Maker, no, it couldn’t end this way. What had happened last month in the Gallows? He shouldn’t have waited…

“Hawke, are you… ill?”

Was that concern in the elf’s voice? Or just discomfort at the prospect of dealing with him unwell? “No, I’m… I just hated the trip to Kirkwall… stuck in the hold and all…”

“I see.”

Taking a deep breath, Kaiden pushed from his mind a dozen pleas for explanation or for Fenris to change his mind. He would never ask for the elf to stay, lest he do so out of a sense of obligation. “Where… are you going?”

“Nowhere, not yet… It’s… I didn’t tell you, but I contacted my… sister.” He said the word as if it were foreign and he had to take care to pronounce it correctly. “Everything Hadriana said was true, apparently. She is free and working as a tailor in Minrathous.”

“That’s wonderful news!” Kaiden’s relief that Fenris wasn’t leaving was followed quickly by trepidation. He hated that he had to think this all sounded too good to be true. “She’s coming here?”

Fenris nodded, his face mirroring the worry that Kaiden felt. “It took some convincing but… she’ll be here in a few days. I’m to meet her at The Hanged Man.”

“You’re worried that Danarius knows?”

Fenris raked his hair again. “The more it seems that he doesn’t, the more certain I am that he does.”

“I’ll ask Varric to keep an eye out, even more than he usually does.”

Fenris nodded, then stared at the table. “And Hawke… I… know you owe me no favors…”

“Fenris…”

Fenris looked up at him then, green eyes earnest. “Come with me, Hawke. If this is a trap… I’ll need someone like you to back me up.”

Not _“I need you”_ but _“someone like you,”_ as in a mage. The elf could not have made him feel more unwanted even as he asked for his help. “Of course I’ll come. And Fenris, you don’t-”

“Good.” Fenris turned to the fire then. “I am again in your debt.”

Kaiden stood there, staring at Fenris silhoetted by the firelight. He wanted to embrace the elf and tell him that he’d always be there for him, whatever the past or future held. He wanted to yell at him and demand to know why this icy chasm was again between them. “Fenris…”

“Aveline mentioned that you’re investigating some trouble in Lowtown. Care for an extra sword?”

“I… of course.”

Fenris nodded, but still did not turn to face him. “Good. Then I shall see you tomorrow, Hawke.”

Kaiden sighed. So it was back to that. At least he would see Fenris again tomorrow. Kaiden had planned to meet with Varric tonight and now decided he would show up early. He needed a drink.

* * *

**Kirkwall – The Hanged Man**

It was a typical night at The Hanged Man and the tavern was beginning to hum with the conversations of men and women come in from the docks and shops of Lowtown after a day's work. On busy evenings, Varric would often join the crowd and regale them with tales of the adventures of Kaiden Hawke – naturally embellished for dramatic effect. While dwarves did not possess magic, Varric felt he had something even more powerful in storytelling. Blood magic might temporarily control a mind, but stories had the power to sway the heart. Varric hoped that Kaiden’s popularity with the people would protect him; his status as an apostate was a badly kept secret.

Tonight, Kaiden had come to see Varric and they sat at the dwarf’s private table on the second floor. Varric watched Kaiden as the man told him about Fenris’s sister and the concern that it might be a trap. They were right to be concerned. The whole thing reeked of being a trap, so much so that Varric almost wondered if it wasn’t. Hmm, now that was convoluted thinking.

It was a good thing that Kaiden Hawke was not into gambling – the man had entirely too many tells. It was in his eyes, his posture, the smile that was missing, and even his mane of red hair seemed listless. Actually, Blondie was the same way, so maybe it was a mage thing.

Varric frowned as Kaiden knocked back another shot. The dwarf hadn’t seen him drink this much since they’d come back from the Deep Roads, after his brother had died. “What’s going on, Hawke?”

“Don’t I usually come here to ask you that?” Kaiden smiled without it reaching his eyes. “Might be better if this is a trap… Until Fenris confronts Danarius, he’s just… waiting. And Anders… The templars are cracking down and I fear he’s pushing himself too much. It’s getting harder for him to control Justice.”

Varric nodded. “I heard about the Gallows. But that’s not…” Varric trailed off. Kaiden was no longer listening but staring off down the stairs. Varric followed his gaze to the elf who was ordering a drink at the bar. Fenris drew looks wherever he went in Kirkwall, but as always, he ignored them and made his way toward the stairway.

Kaiden stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Varric.” He nodded to Fenris as they passed on the stairs. “Fenris.”

“Hawke.” Fenris paused at the top of the stairs and watched Kaiden go before joining Varric at the table. The elf frowned at the collection of empty shot classes and looked back toward the stairs again.

Varric shook his head. “And you two gave Aveline a hard time.”

Fenris turned to him. “What?”

“For two men who usually speak their mind, you both are doing a damn fine job of avoiding whatever’s going on between you.”

“There’s nothing going on.”

Varric raised his eyebrows.

“Stay out of this, dwarf.”

“Whatever you say, elf. But don’t go ripping Blondie’s heart out if he decides to make a move.”

Fenris’s jaw twitched and his grip on his mug tightened. Isabela sashayed up the stairs then, followed by Merrill. “You’re right, Kitten, he does make puppy-dog eyes at Kaiden.”

Fenris grumbled into his ale, “I do _not_ have puppy-dog eyes.”

“And you’ve been extra broody lately. I don’t know what’s holding you back.” She leaned toward Fenris as he took another drink and waggled her eyebrows. “That man is _skilled_.”

Fenris started to choke on his ale.

Varric chuckled as Merrill looked confused. “Hawke is good at lots of things… oh, you’re talking about something dirty, aren’t you?”

Isabela laughed. “You didn't know him before he met Fenris and became boring.”

Fenris stood. “I seem to have forgotten that I have something else to attend to this evening.”

Isabela quirked an eyebrow. “Such as polishing your sword?”

Fenris ignored her as he walked out.

Merrill watched Fenris go. “His sword looks fine to me.”

“That it does, Kitten. That it does.”

* * *

**Kirkwall – Anders’ Clinic**

“Here, kitty, kitty. Come here, Rocinante.” Anders placed the bowl of milk on the floor and looked up at the yellow eye watching him. The gray cat hopped down from his dresser but watched him for another silent moment before stretching toward the hand he held out to her. After taking in his scent, she rubbed her face against his fingers. Only then did Anders move, gently rubbing her head and behind her ears, but no further. The pace was hers to dictate.

Rocinante had started to lap milk from the bowl when she stopped and looked toward the closed door to the clinic. It was a moment before Anders heard anything. Someone was out there, perhaps a late-arriving patient, but Anders thought he had locked the door. Then a strange scraping sound started. Rocinante dashed under Anders’ bed. Alarmed, Anders grabbed his staff and opened the door. He was surprised to see Kaiden, shirtless, on his hands and knees scrubbing furiously at the floor. The sight of that lean muscled torso glistening with perspiration drove all thought from Anders’ mind but what he’d rather Kaiden be doing in that position. After a moment, Anders realized that he was staring. Reluctantly pushing the image from his mind, he adjusted his robes and walked into the room. “Kaiden… what are you doing?”

Kaiden paused for a moment, but did not look up. “Cleaning the floor.”

“I can see that. I thought you were meeting Varric at The Hanged Man tonight.”

“I did. I was just coming back through Darktown.”

“Not the most direct… you were looking for a fight.”

Kaiden looked up then and gave him one of those wry smiles that made his heart do flip-flops. “What is Undercity coming to when a lone noble no longer makes a good target?”

Anders snorted. “They know who you are, and that look you get…”

Kaiden raised an eyebrow. “I have a look?”

“If any mage could set things on fire with a look, it would be you.” Anders squatted beside Kaiden. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“With Varric?”

“What happened to drive you to seek a fight in darktown and, failing that, to settle for battling the dirt in this floor?”

Kaiden sighed. “You too?”

“What?”

“Varric asked me the same thing, minus the… well, all of it. I think he disapproved of my drinking. Kind of ironic for a dwarf, isn’t it?”

Anders couldn’t help but smile as he remembered an often besotted dwarf he had known in Fereldan. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want. But I’m here for you, Kaiden, whatever you need. I don’t believe I ever thanked you, for coming with me to the Gallows, for… stopping me, and afterward…”

Kaiden put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, that’s what friends do.”

He raised his hand and gave Kaiden’s arm a squeeze. The man was so close and smelled of alcohol and sweat and that scent that was uniquely Kaiden Hawke. Maker, he wanted to kiss him. “You’ve been a better friend than I deserve.”

“Nonsense. You’re one of the most selfless men I’ve ever met. You-”

Anders reached his other hand into that gorgeous red hair and pulled him into a kiss. Kaiden immediately stiffened and pulled back. “Anders, no, I… I can’t…” His ice-blue eyes were wide with what Anders could only interpret as fear. That hurt even deeper than Kaiden’s rejection.

“I get it. You’ve seen what’s inside me.”

“Damn it, Anders, don’t do this to me! I meant every word I’ve said. It's not that I don't want... Maker, I do. If things were different… but Fenris...”

Pain twisted into anger. “It’s because of _Fenris_? I thought he left you! How many times does the dog have to turn-”

“Don’t call him that!” Anger flashed in Kaiden’s eyes and Anders felt Justice on the defensive. That was the last thing he needed. Closing his eyes, Anders focused on calming himself and Justice. Kaiden was not going to attack him. He was just defensive of that stupid bigoted elf. When Anders opened his eyes again, he was surprised to not see Kaiden in front of him.

He stood and saw Kaiden moving toward Rocinante, who had perched herself on one of the tables. Kaiden was approaching from her blind side. “Kaiden!”

In one swift motion, Kaiden scooped the cat into his arms. Rocinante yelped and sprang away, scratching Kaiden’s arms in the process. She sprinted back into Anders’ room and, he knew, under the bed.

“Maker’s breath, Kaiden! What were you thinking?”

He pointed to the blood welling along his arm. “Your cat scratched me.”

“And you deserved it! Do you know how long it’s taken for her to trust me to even touch her?”

“Because she was hurt before.”

“If you knew…” Anders shook his head. “Kaiden, you are an idiot.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Anders walked over to Kaiden. “Do you really blame yourself for Fenris?”

“Not as much as I blame… but yes, I do.”

“It’s been… how many months now?”

Kaiden groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

“How long are you going to wait?”

“Forever.” Kaiden met his gaze then. His expression of pain and longing made Anders ache to hold him, comfort him, kiss him. It took all his will and perhaps some help from Justice to not move. Kaiden turned away and sighed. “Of course, I hope it's not...” He rubbed his hands over his face. “I, uh... I should go. I'll see you tomorrow in Lowtown?”

Anders swallowed past the tightness in his throat. “Of course.”

Kaiden nodded and left, pulling his shirt back on as he walked out the door. Anders sank to the floor and hugged his knees against his chest.


	6. The Fade

**Kirkwall – Alienage**

It was night and Kirkwall’s alienage was as quiet as the chantry. A gnarled oak stood in the center of the square in place of a statue of Andraste. Moonlight filtered through its branches instead of stained glass, casting patterns of light and shadow. The trampled snow was the only evidence of how busy the elven square had been during the day.

They had just finished the investigative work for Aveline, and Varric had insisted on walking Merrill home. Kaiden was happy to go with but was surprised that Fenris and Anders came as well. Neither was exactly friends with Merrill, but it was as if this were part of the day’s work and they were determined to see it through to the end. Or maybe it was Varric. Kaiden smiled. His dwarven friend certainly had a way of talking people into things.

They crossed the central square of the alienage, snow crunching under their feet. At the door to her apartment, Merrill turned back to them. Her breath fogged in the crisp night air. “It was sweet of you to walk me home, but I’m fine, really. I go for walks all the time at night and nothing ever happens.”

Varric made an expression that was somewhere between a smile and a grimace. “That nothing’s costing me a lot of coin, Daisy.”

Merrill looked puzzled as she usually did whenever anything was said indirectly. Reaching toward Kaiden, she brushed her fingers against the back of his hand. “Would you… I need to speak with you, _lethallin_.”

Kaiden did not wish to again discuss the _arulin’holm_ , but was gladdened to hear her again address him with the Elvish word for friend. He looked toward the others as Merrill opened her door. “I’ll be…”

“Don’t worry, Hawke.” Varric grinned. “We’ll wait out here to escort you home.”

Kaiden smiled and shook his head as he stepped through the doorway into the main room of Merrill’s home. Piles of books that Kaiden knew would be about elven history were scattered here and there along with items from the Dalish. Kaiden spotted the wooden _halla_ he had given her on the mantel. A vase stood in the center of a table, filled with freshly cut flowers that Kaiden didn’t think grew outside the viscount’s private gardens. A lot of coin indeed…

“Kaiden, I…” Kaiden turned to see Merrill staring down at her hands clasped in front of her.

“Merrill, what’s wrong?”

She looked up, large green eyes now brimming with tears. “Last month when you wouldn’t give me the _arulin’holm_ I… I said some awful things…”

Relieved, Kaiden pulled her into an embrace. “Shh, it’s okay. I understood. You-”

“No, it’s not okay! I should not… Orana told me how upset you were.”

“I didn’t…” Kaiden winced. “She is perceptive.”

“I’m glad she watches out for you. Someone should. You’re always taking care of everyone else.”

“That’s me.” Kaiden feigned a severe expression. “Whether they want me to or not.”

Merrill laughed and hugged him. “How do you…” She stopped and turned toward the door. Then Kaiden heard it too – a female voice, and the only one in Kirkwall besides Merrill to speak in a Dalish brogue. It was Feynriel’s mother, Arianni.

Kaiden and Merrill went back outside to see Anders wrapping his cloak around Arianni’s shoulders. She was shivering, having apparently left her home without grabbing anything warm.

“Mesere Hawke! You have done so much for my Feynriel already. I have no right to ask-”

“Arianni, please…” It had been no more than any decent person would have done, and a mage… “My father always said that magic should serve that which is best in us.”

Arianni smiled. “Your father is a wise man. I wish… but I am glad that Feynriel has you for a friend.”

“Has something happened? Is he alright?”

“The nightmares plague him still.”

Feynriel had told Kaiden the same when he’d been at the Dalish camp with Merrill. All mages suffered from nightmares occasionally, but Kaiden did not know why Feynriel’s were so severe. “Keeper Marathari has not been able to help him?”

“The Keeper tries but… Two days ago, Feynriel went into a nightmare and hasn’t returned.”

“ _Two days?_ Can no one wake him?”

Arianni shook her head. “They have tried, but...”

Anders spoke then. “Perhaps someone could go into the Fade to help him?”

“The Keeper is preparing for such a ritual. She said we need to send someone he trusts.” She looked at Kaiden again.

Kaiden nodded. “I will go to the Dalish immediately. Anders-”

Arianni smiled and shook her head. “The Keeper is coming here to perform the ritual in his old bedroom. She said his things will be a focus to draw him back.”

“We’ll wait with you.”

Arianni’s home was not far, just down a sidestreet off the main square of the alienage. Soon all six of them were inside the small main room. Arianni started to remove the cloak when Anders gently placed his hand on hers. “You may have not been out long, but you are chilled. Keep it. I’ll start some tea.”

“Why thank you, mesere.” As Anders found his way in her kitchen, she shook her head. “Never did I think to find such kindness from humans.”

Varric grinned. “They’re rare and crazy humans.” That earned him a small laugh. While Varric and Merrill sought to keep Arianni occupied, Kaiden and Fenris waited at the door.

Kaiden stole glances at Fenris, trying to think of something to say, but the elf seemed lost in his own thoughts. Fenris had not approved when Kaiden had sent Feynriel to the Dalish instead of the Circle. Maybe the elf would again berate him for that later – and Kaiden would welcome anything other than this cold distance between them – but he was glad for Arianni’s sake that the elf said nothing on the matter now.

They did not have to wait long for Keeper Marathari. To Kaiden’s surprise, she came alone. But then the templars would likely overlook what they thought was just one more knife-eared beggar, and any bandits who thought they had an easy target would be in for a surprise. Kaiden knew that she was a powerful mage.

Arianni gave the traditional elven greeting and then inquired after Feynriel.

The Keeper looked grim. “It has not changed.” She looked at Kaiden. “It is good that you are here. He is in grave danger.”

“What has happened? How can he be trapped in a nightmare?”

“Feynriel has great power in the Beyond, what you humans call ‘the Fade.’ He is what the Tevinter called _somniari_ , a dreamer. Feynriel is the first in two ages to survive.”

Kaiden glanced at Fenris, but the elf’s expression revealed nothing. He turned back to the Keeper. “First to survive?”

“The unique power dreamers possess attracts demons, but most prove too frail of mind to survive a demon’s possession.”

“You don’t think he’s…” Kaiden did not want to voice his fear in front of Arianni.

“No, but it is a danger. A dreamer-abomination would be nigh unstoppable.”

“What sort of power is this?”

“Dreamers have the unique ability to enter the Fade at will, without the aid of lyrium. They can shape dreams and even effect the world beyond the Veil. Tevinter somniari would enter the minds of their enemies as they slept and slay them in their dreams.”

Kaiden felt a chill. “But you can send me into the Fade?”

Keeper Marathari nodded. “The Dalish have preserved much of the somniari arts. With this ritual, even those without power may enter the Fade. I can send you and three of your companions across the Veil.”

“I want to go!” Kaiden turned to Merrill. “I might be able to help. I’ve dealt with spirits before.”

Varric saved Kaiden from having to answer immediately. “I’m not sure how much help I’d be, but I have to admit, I am intrigued.”

“First, I need a word with Hawke.” As Kaiden followed Keeper Marathari into the small bedroom that used to be Feynriel’s, he felt growing anxiety for his friend. _Two days_ he had been stuck in a nightmare. Kaiden wanted to get into the Fade already, to be able to do something to help. He was about to say so when Marathari turned to him. Her look froze his words in his throat. “I cannot stress enough the danger if Feynriel were to become possessed. If you cannot save him, you must slay him. It would not kill him, but cut him off from the Fade, making him what your Circle calls tranquil.”

Kaiden knew what that meant – no magic, no dreams, and no emotions. Although the Chantry denied it, Kaiden believed that they were cutting off a person’s soul. “I will _never_ do that to a mage, and certainly not to Feynriel. It was his greatest fear.”

“Do you think I say this lightly? I have done everything in my power to help him, but it is not only his life that we must think of.”

“Have faith. Feynriel is strong. He’s resisted for years without anyone to guide his magic. Now he has us.”

“I have no choice but to leave it in your hands. Do you plan to bring anyone with you into the Fade?”

Kaiden nodded. “Fenris, Anders, and Varric. And… there is something I would ask.”

Keeper Marathari arched a brow.

“Could Merrill… help you perform the ritual?”

“You do not trust her against demons?”

Kaiden winced. “She has a good heart but…”

“I understand… more than you may realize.” Marathari smiled sadly. “I am glad she has you for a friend.”

* * *

It was like waking into a dream. It appeared to Fenris that he was inside a great stone fortress, except that everything was fuzzy and indistinct. Only when he looked directly at something would its nature become clear. He saw a book to his right, apparently floating midair. As if sensing his scrutiny, the book closed and tumbled away.

He took a step back and nearly jumped when he bumped into someone. Turning, he found himself face-to-face with Kaiden. It unnerved him that he had not sensed someone behind him. This place threw off his senses. Now he was very much aware of Kaiden, standing so close that Fenris had to tilt his head back to meet those ice-blue eyes. Was it possible that the man was even more beautiful in the Fade? His eyes were almost luminous and his long red hair moved as if stirred by a breeze. He looked like an angel.

Kaiden’s brow furrowed. “Are you alright?”

“This place is… strange. We should move on.”

“No argument here.” Varric was looking around, holding his crossbow at the ready. “This place gives me the creeps, like Bartrand’s mansion.”

“That is because the Veil was torn there.” They all turned at hearing the voice of Justice. Anders’ eyes blazed blue and energy seemed to move through and about him, as it did whenever the spirit manifested. “It is good to feel the breath of the Fade again, and not the empty air of your world.”

Fenris tensed as Kaiden took a step toward the abomination. “Justice… are you with us?”

The abomination looked at Kaiden and frowned. “Your passions too often lead you astray of justice… but this cause is right. I shall aid you.”

Kaiden did not challenge Justice’s assessment of him, only nodded and then turned to join Varric, who was peering down an adjoining hall. As Justice strode past him, Fenris growled. “I’m watching you, demon.”

The abomination’s lip twitched. “Likewise, slave.”

The comeback sounded more like Anders than Justice and caught Fenris off guard. He glared after the abomination as he followed him to Kaiden and Varric.

After walking down a long stone corridor, they found themselves on a walkway that ran along one side of a large courtyard. It was brighter out here. Above them the clouds were backlit by yellow-green light. Fenris realized another thing that unnerved him about this place was that nothing cast a shadow. Moreover, the courtyard was eerily quiet and not even their boots made a sound against the stonework. It was as if nothing were substantial, nothing real, not even the four of them. Luminous butterflies fluttered around them but there were no signs of any demons nor of Feynriel.

Wordlessly, they descended a stairway into the center of the courtyard. Fenris felt the skin crawl on the back of his neck and turned to look behind them. Nothing was there, yet Fenris had the distinct feeling that they were being watched. Justice stopped and pointed an area of shade in the far corner of the courtyard. It took Fenris a moment to realize that it was the only shadow in the courtyard. As they watched, the shadow darkened and then took form, becoming a cowled creature of smoke and shadow.

Justice’s eyes shown brighter. “This is a demon of sloth. Do not relax around it.”

The sloth demon moved toward them, gliding over the stonework like a phantom. When it spoke, its voice was deep and slow, the way one might imagine the voice of an ancient tree, were it capable of speech. “It is usually a slow place, the Fade, not many surprises. I didn’t think I’d like this one, but it has potential.”

Fenris wanted to slay the demon but… it wasn’t really a threat, not yet at least. They needed to save their strength to fight the demons that threatened Feynriel. Fighting every demon in the Fade would be futile.

The demon stopped in front of Kaiden. “Call me Torpor. I have a proposition that might interest you.”

“I do not deal with demons. Stand aside or be destroyed.”

“There is an easier way. You fight so much but what is all your struggle for?”

The demon’s voice was strangely soothing. Fenris took a step toward the demon… and wanted to take off the heavy greatsword strapped to his back. What was he fighting for? Would he be forever on the run from Danarius? He wanted peace, somewhere he belonged, to sleep soundly without fear of slavers finding him.

The demon continued, its voice a hypnotic drone. “For all your prowess, you do not want battle. You want only to be with those you love…”

“ _Focus!_ ” Justice shouted. “You must _fight_ it!”

“NO! It’s not real!” Fenris’s eyes shot open when he heard Kaiden yell. Magic rolled off the mage as he seemed to shake himself out of a trance. He unleashed a fireball at the demon. Drawing his greatsword, Fenris charged and cut through charred demon as Justice fired a bolt of electric energy through it. The demon disintegrated into a cloud of smoke.

“What? What happened? I blink and…” Fenris paid no attention to Varric but went to Kaiden, who was kneeling on the cobblestones. His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed, and he was shaking.

“Hawke?” Kaiden opened his eyes and then blinked rapidly. A single tear escaped to trail down his cheek. Without thinking, Fenris reached out and brushed it away with his thumb. Kaiden grabbed Fenris’s hand and held it against his cheek. He looked at Fenris then, his face etched with such sorrow and longing it made Fenris uncomfortable. Somehow the demon had broken through Kaiden’s defenses and Fenris felt that he was seeing more than he had a right too. Breaking eye contact, he looked aside to Kaiden’s hand on his. “What did that demon do to you?”

“He showed me… I… it’s nothing. I’m alright.” Kaiden turned to the hand he still held against his face and kissed Fenris’s palm where it wasn’t covered by the gauntlet. Fenris felt the lyrium respond and his mind went back to that night, when Kaiden had made all his lyrium buzz with pleasure. Fenris wanted to hold Kaiden then, to kiss away the pain as the man had tried to do for him.

“Come.” The stentorian voice of Justice reminded Fenris of where they were. “I sense Feynriel’s mind straining. We haven’t much time.”

More than anything Fenris wanted to show that abomination that Kaiden was his, and his alone, but he knew he had no right to make such a claim. Instead he stood and looked again around the courtyard. While he could not name precisely how, it looked different, felt different. The sensation of being watched was stronger, and that statue of Andraste… wait… that was no statue of Andraste… If Kaiden noticed anything amiss about the courtyard, he gave no sign of it as he walked over to a small staircase that led to a side door. “He’s this way.”

Justice nodded and moved to follow him. “I feel it also.”

They walked down another hallway past a series of wooden doors to a large door at the end of the hall. As Kaiden reached to open it, Justice grabbed his arm and Fenris had to restrain himself from punching the abomination. “You should go in first. It would be too jarring to Feynriel for us all to break into his dream at once. Be cautious.”

Kaiden nodded and then opened the door. There was a blinding wall of light and Kaiden hesitated a moment before stepping through it and beyond their sight. Fenris did not like the thought of Kaiden having to face down this demon alone. He had almost decided that surely it couldn’t hurt for one more of them to enter, when suddenly the light pulled back from the doorway, revealing Kaiden in a large room made of the same gray stone as the rest of the stronghold. Coalescing in the center of the room, the light darkened and twisted into the solid form of a large demon. It was a great ugly thing, towering over Kaiden and covered with horns and scales. Its face was featureless save for a maw of fangs and seven little eyes that reminded Fenris of a spider’s.

Its voice was nothing like the sloth demon’s but was instead a roar that echoed through the vaulted room. “With my power joined to his, Feynriel would have changed the world!”

“Only as your slave. Feynriel doesn’t want your power.”

“All seek power.” The demon’s tone became taunting. “Your _friends_ are no different. Or do you think this slave would choose you over his freedom?”

Fenris stepped forward before Kaiden could reply. “Cast your eyes elsewhere, demon. I am no slave. I have already won my freedom.”

The demon spoke to him now. “You no longer wear chains but you fear the magisters still, especially he who left his mark upon your body and your mind.”

Fenris tried to respond but found he couldn’t. He was no longer in the Fade but was reliving one of his earliest memories, from not long after the lyrium ritual. More than that he was reliving the emotions, as if he were now a ghost in the mind of his former self. He had forgotten, or at least managed not to think about, what he had once felt toward the man that had ruined him.

Danarius was showing him off to some of his fellow magisters. First had been the combat, and Fenris had done his best to please his master. _Don’t just win, make it look spectacular._ Fenris would never let his master down that way again.

Now Danarius was showing off the lyrium markings. Fenris stood before the other magisters, naked, as they admired Danarius’s artistry and Danarius demonstrated how the lyrium responded to magic – a resonance, he called it.

Fenris looked to Danarius, hoping to find reassurance that his master would not let them hurt him. Instead he saw that small smile that did not reach his eyes. Danarius was displeased with him, although Fenris could not think of why. Panic buzzed from his head to his chest like magical lightning and he tried unsuccessfully to repress a shiver.

Danarius saw it, of course; his master saw everything. He dismissed the other magisters and Fenris felt a moment of relief. Then Danarius turned, eyes appraising and that small smile still on his face. “My pet, I do not feel that you appreciate me.”

When Fenris would have protested, Danarius raised a hand. “Now, now, it is perhaps not your fault. You cannot remember anything else. How can you know how fortunate you are? But Sadius will help you.”

The buzz turned into a tightness from his stomach to his head and Fenris found himself unable to breathe. He had heard about his master’s apprentice, and when he saw the eyes of the man who stepped into the room beside Danarius, he knew the stories were true. He heard himself saying, “Master, he will kill me. Please-”

Danarius laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous, my little wolf. Would I allow such a thing to happen?”

“Forgive me, Master.” But the panic did not go away. Sadius took a step toward him, eyes roving over him like slugs. The man’s face twisted into a sneer as he rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his mustache.

Danarius suddenly frowned and grabbed Sadius’s shoulder length black hair, yanking his head back. He put his mouth to Sadius’s ear and spoke softly, but Fenris’s elven ears had no difficulty hearing him. “He is yours tonight but if he bears so much as a scratch tomorrow, you are fulfilling his duties. _All_ of them.” Danarius released his apprentice with a shove and walked out of the room. The door clicked shut behind him.

Fenris felt his heart swell with gratitude at his master’s kindness, for protecting him even when he had to be punished. For a moment, Sadius stood leaning against the wall. His face was pale and his now disheveled hair contrasted with his immaculate attire. When Sadius walked over to him, Fenris stood still, focusing his eyes on the floor as he knew was expected. “Not as cute as your sister, but I guess you’ll do.”

Fenris glanced up without thinking. “What?”

Sadius smirked. “Oh that’s right, you don’t remember. Danarius must have fucked your mind but good or you never would have killed him.”

Fenris was staring at the floor again, trying to figure out what Sadius was talking about, listening to the scuff of the man’s boots as he circled him, wanting to be prepared for whatever the man might do.

“Look at you. You used to be so cocky. Now you’re just his glowy little whore.” Sadius grabbed one of Fenris’s ears and twisted it painfully as he leaned close. “Well tonight you’re _my_ whore.”

Mercifully, the vision ended, and Fenris was again himself. He felt his armor snug against him and the weight of his greatsword in his hands. Trying to ignore the nausea he felt, he forced himself to take deep breaths.

He felt a presence and there was strength in it, at once calming and invigorating. _Make them pay. Strike him down and you shall have the power to destroy any who would use you._

Danarius was walking toward him now, concern on his face, reaching out a hand to him like he expected Fenris to just drop his sword and go to him. Fenris snarled. “I am no longer your slave.” With a flare of lyrim he leapt toward Danarius, hefting the greatsword above his head, then slashed it down, pouring all his rage and hatred into the swing. The sword struck Danarius’s shoulder, thwacking through bone and sinew as the sword sliced down in a spray of blood.

Danarius collapsed. One arm hung at an angle while he uselessly pressed the other against the gaping wound through his chest. He stared at Fenris, eyes wide with evident shock at the betrayal. He tried to form words, but only blood came out.

The presence took on a feeling of urgency. _Finish him! Take his head!_ As Fenris raised his sword for the finishing blow, he was struck by a sudden feeling of wrongness. Where was he? And what was Danarius doing here? He heard distant yelling, but couldn’t make out the words.

A blast of magic hit him like ice water, and Fenris fell to his knees. He looked up… and saw Kaiden lying in a pool of blood.


	7. Tranquility

**Kirkwall – Alienage**

Fenris bolted upright. He tried to open his eyes, but was still seeing the nightmare play out in his mind. After reliving his introduction to Danarius’s first apprentice, Fenris had struck down his former master – only to have it be Kaiden. The last thing he had seen before waking was Kaiden mortally wounded, bleeding out in front of him. He shuddered and rubbed his hands over his face. It had been just another nightmare, nothing… He wasn’t at home. All at once it came back to him – going into the Fade, the demons, Kaiden… Fenris looked about frantically and then saw that Kaiden was sleeping on a mat beside him. His breathing was steady, peaceful even.

Kaiden was alive – well of course he was alive. A death in the Fade would not kill him, only make him tranquil. As much as Fenris wished that Kaiden were free of the curse of magic, he hated more the thought of him robbed of emotions, of never again seeing those blue eyes sparkle in amusement, never again hearing his laughter, never again feeling his pulse quicken at his touch. No, Fenris would not let Kaiden be tranquil, not ever, and certainly not because of him. Someone had to know a cure, perhaps in Tevinter. He would do whatever it took, even…

“Fenris?”

Fenris flinched at hearing Merrill’s voice and realized his hand was in Kaiden’s hair. It might not yet be too late. He withdrew his hand and turned to the elven mage. “Help him!” 

Merrill jumped and hurried over to Kaiden. Magic glowed about her hands as she knelt beside him. “What’s wrong? He-”

“He’s dying! In the Fade…”

“I can’t, Fenris! He has to be healed in the Fade. I-”

Fenris was instantly at the side of the sleeping abomination. “Heal him! I know you can hear me, demon… Justice!” He grabbed Anders’ shoulders. “If he wakes up tranquil I swear you won’t have a host to wake up in.”

Some magical force pulled him back, like a leash. The Keeper stood in the doorway, frowning at him. “Such hysterics will not help, young man. Since your friend has not awoken, I would say that the danger has passed. Now, let them concentrate on staying alive and helping Feynriel.”

Merrill had walked around to him. She touched his arm, causing his lyrium to flare at the unique feel of her magic. “Fenris, I-”

He shoved her hand away and snarled. “I don’t need you comforting me.” For a moment he stood there. Some force more inexorable than magic was pulling him to Kaiden and he ached to return to his side.

Arianni now stood beside the Keeper and Fenris felt the weight of three pairs of Dalish eyes upon him. It was too much. Casting a final glance toward Kaiden, he strode past the elven women and outside into the bracing cold. He shivered. Torn between a desire to return to his mansion or to go to Kaiden, he ended up just standing there in the snow, waiting.

* * *

There was too much blood. Magic wouldn’t… no, it had to. Varric pulled the cap off of the healing potion with his teeth and poured it over the gaping wound through Kaiden’s chest. “Hang in there, Hawke. You’ll get through this. Have you heard the stories I’ve been telling? It would be a sin for you to be taken out by anything less than a dragon.”

That earned him a small smile. Then the fool tried to speak again. Varric was only able to discern the word ‘tranquil.’

Varric uncorked their last healing potion and helped Kaiden drink it down. “Tranquil? Well, women also like the strong stoic type, especially if they look like you. The _real_ tragedy is that you might actually beat me in Wicked Grace.”

Kaiden’s eyes slid shut and there was only the smallest twitch of a smile. Varric looked up to see Anders – Justice – dispatch another elf-that-was-really-a-demon-thing. “Blondie, get over here!”

The bleeding had slowed and Varric couldn't tell whether Kaiden was still breathing. “Hawke? Come on, stay with me, Kaiden.”

Justice knelt on Kaiden’s other side. “The Fade is not bound by the same laws as your world.” As Justice stretched his hands over the wound, they began to glow blue with magic. The wound began to close before Varric’s eyes. Never had he seen a healer, not even Anders, repair so much damage so quickly. But it was taking a toll on Justice, or Anders, Varric wasn’t sure how that worked. Beads of sweat appeared on his furrowed brow and his arms began to tremble. Still he kept the magic flowing.

A feeling like springtime came over Varric, the sweet scent of lilacs with a rich undertone of earth, warm sunlight and a cool breeze. Luminous butterflies fluttered about him and then appeared to dissolve into Justice. They seemed to revive the spirit as the strain left his face and the glow of magic intensified. Kaiden’s chest and shoulder were now fully mended, yet still he did not breathe.

“Take heart, ser dwarf. Your friend’s spirit is strong.” Surprised at hearing a mellifluous feminine voice, Varric looked up to see a young woman seated at Kaiden’s head. He was certain that she had been the statue in the courtyard, only now, alive with the glow of magic, she was breathtaking. Part of Varric thought that he should be alarmed at her sudden presence, but instead he felt an overwhelming sense of peace.

The woman leaned forward and gently kissed Kaiden’s lips. He inhaled then and Varric released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Kaiden blinked and looked around. “Fenris? Where’s Fenris?” Sitting up, he clasped his head with a groan.

The woman replied. “The elf is safe. He was only dispelled from the Fade.”

Kaiden turned to the woman. “Who are you?”

Justice spoke at last. “She is a spirit of love. Not all denizens of the Fade are demons. There is beauty here as well.”

Varric stood and helped Kaiden to his feet. “She helped bring you back.”

“Indeed?” Kaiden looked at the woman again. “It appears I am in your debt.”

The woman arched a brow. “A mage does not say that lightly to a spirit of the Fade. Be assured that it was enough to get a glimpse of what you mortals feel.”

“Can you help us find Feynriel?”

She nodded. “Across the courtyard. There he is being tempted by a cheap reflection of what I am.” Her eyes flashed. “The boy is strong, but he tires, and Caress is a cunning demon.” She turned to Justice then and placed a hand on his chest. “I feel your struggle. Do not let hatred destroy that which was created out of love.” She appeared to dissolve into the light and was gone. Varric felt an unexpected ache at her disappearance.

The three of them were quiet as they walked back down the long corridor to the courtyard. Varric got Justice’s attention. “If this demon starts talking to me and I’m not telling it where to go or shooting it between the eyes…”

Justice nodded. “I shall expel you from the Fade.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of blasting the shit out of the demon, but I guess that works too.”

* * *

Caress watched the young dreamer run away and sighed. As the boy was already awakening to his powers, there was no longer much hope of possessing him. She had not been foolishly arrogant of success as had been Wryme. Then, true to his nature, the pride demon had decided that if he could not have his prize, she would not have hers. Wryme had nearly destroyed the man.

She turned to the mage who had helped the dreamer find his way. Kaiden Hawke was a singular man, one any clever demon would see was too virtuous to have hope of turning. But Caress was an _exceptionally_ clever demon. Given time, even virtue could be made a vice.

She drifted over to the man, so beautiful and potentially powerful, he would have been an utter waste as a tranquil. “What is it you desire, I wonder?”

“Only your death, demon.”

She felt the man trying to call his magic. “Now, now, that is not how it works, you know. I get to make you an offer and only _then_ do you righteously turn me down.”

“Let’s skip the-”

“Do you love him still?”

“What?” The man had clearly not expected that.

“The elf, who just now tried to kill you, do you-”

“That was the demon’s doing.”

Caress laughed. “Oh you beautiful stupid boy! There really is nothing I could offer you today!”

“You… good. Then-”

“My offer is for the future.”

“Spare me.”

“Your elf is going to die.”

That got the man’s attention. A flare of his magic overpowered hers and covered the room in frost. “Torment me, if you must, but you will _not_ threaten him.”

“I do not threaten the elf, dear boy. My offer to you is his life.” The man stared at her now, and she could see that he was starting to believe the vision she showed him. “When the time comes, you will know-”

“No. NO! It’s a lie! Get out of my head, bitch!” He flung a fireball at her and Caress winked herself to another part of the Fade. She had laid the groundwork. Such a delicious prize was worth waiting for.

* * *

The demon had vanished but the vision was still there, so sharp it cut through all other thoughts and Kaiden was seeing himself holding Fenris as he bled… _No!_ It was an illusion, nothing more. It was no more real than the vision that the sloth demon had given him, of his family alive and together, and him holding Fenris, waking up with the elf in his arms…

“Hawke?”

Kaiden turned to see Varric and Justice enter the room. “The demon’s gone. Feynriel got away.”

Justice’s luminous blue eyes narrowed. “It did not try to bargain with you?”

Varric frowned at Justice. “Did you miss the part where it’s a demon? What else do they do? Hawke knows better than to listen to that shit.”

“It tried but… I did not let it finish.”

Justice nodded. “It is wise not to listen. Come, Feynriel’s mind is free, for now, but he is in turmoil.”

Kaiden started to follow Justice when Varric stopped him. “You alright?”

“I’m fine.” Kaiden sighed when Varric made a face. “The demons… ah, I’ll feel better once we’re out of this place.”

“Can’t argue there. This mage dreamland of yours has its moments, but I’m surprised any of you are sane. Come to think of it…”

Kaiden shook his head. “It’s not usually like this.” Then he turned to Varric, a glint in his eye. “And I seem to remember a dwarf telling me about a dream he had where the arishok-”

Varric held up his hands. “Alright, point taken. How drunk was I that I told you that?”

“I think that was the night Isabela got you to try her ‘special.’”

“Ah, Rivaini. Lesson. Learned.”

Kaiden followed Varric and Justice down a hall and back into the courtyard. He saw Feynriel kneeling in the middle of it, his hands clutched over his ears. “Feynriel?” When the boy did not answer, Kaiden took the stairs two at a time and crossed the courtyard to him. He crouched before him and placed a hand on his arm. “You’re safe now, Feynriel.”

Feynriel’s head shot up and he knocked Kaiden’s hand away. “So a sloth demon now, is it? I will not let down my guard! No… you are not an illusion… there are no seams… Is it really you, Kaiden?”

“Yes, Feynriel, I’m really here. This nightmare can end.”

“Can it? Maybe for now but... Every time I sleep they test me... my every want, my every weakness... Tranquility may be the only way-”

Kaiden grabbed Feynriel’s shoulders. “No! Listen to me. I will not… You can master this.”

“I’m tired, Kaiden.”

“I know, I know. Those demons were powerful. Most mages will not face such in all their lives, but you saw through their illusions.”

“You think I can face them every night?”

“I think that when you master your power, you won’t have to.” Feynriel just stared at him, so Kaiden continued. “Keeper Marathari told me about your power. You can shape the Fade. This is your realm as much as theirs.”

“But Keeper Marathari cannot help me and the Circle…”

“Not the Circle. Tevinter. They have experience with this magic.”

“Tevinter… You... really think I can do it?”

“I know you can. You have come so far on your own already. There must be mages in Tevinter who can guide you, although there are those that would seek to use you as surely as any demon.”

Feynriel smiled. “I think I have some experience with that. Yes, I will go to Tevinter. If anyone can help me with this magic, it would be there. Thank you, Kaiden. This is the second time I owe you my life.”

“It was you who saw through the illusions.”

As Feynriel looked around them at the courtyard, it began to feel insubstantial and Kaiden felt a twinge of vertigo. Feyrniel smiled. “The Fade feels different somehow. I can see the stitches, the seams holding it together. I feel as though I could wake at any moment.” He waved his hand and a doorway of light appeared before him. He turned back to Kaiden then. “Will you… tell my mother where I’ve gone? She will not understand.”

Kaiden nodded. “May the Maker guide your path.”

“Thank you, Kaiden, for everything. Farewell.” He stepped into the light and then was gone. Kaiden turned to Justice and Varric and then everything blurred and he was no longer in the courtyard.

* * *

Kaiden opened his eyes to find himself lying on a mat in Feynriel’s old bedroom. First Merrill was there and then Anders, concerned for him. Was he hurt? Was he tranquil? Then the Keeper and Arianni wanted to hear about Feynriel. Yes, of course, that’s why he’d gone into the Fade. He shouldn’t begrudge telling them and he did his best to focus on what he was saying, what they were saying, them thanking him again. It all took forever. He needed to find Fenris.

At last he was free. Anders seemed to have sensed his anxiety and took over comforting Arianni on her son’s departure for the faraway Tevinter Imperium. Kaiden opened the door and looked up and down the narrow street, now dimly lit by the predawn. Merrill had said that Fenris was waiting outside. Kaiden saw a trough in the snow and could imagine the elf creating it with his pacing. But he was not there now. A fresh set of footprints led away from Arianni’s apartment back the way they had come the night before. Kaiden pulled his robe closer around himself, feeling for the first time the chill of winter.


	8. Hope

**Kirkwall - A Borrowed Mansion**

Reaching into the hearth with a poker, Fenris pushed the largely uncharred log deeper into the flames. The pleasant heat on his face and hands was an abrupt contrast to the cold at his back. Damn these Marcher winters, and damn this drafty mansion. He shivered.

An unopened bottle of wine sat on the table above him, the liquid a languid red in the firelight. Fatigue wore at his mind and he knew that the wine would muffle his anxiety under a blanket of warmth, but would not stop the dreams. It never had. This night had been the worst in years, as if that demon had brought his every dark memory to the surface.

The past was not the only thing on Fenris’s mind. He had not seen Kaiden since Arianni’s. Nothing could have compelled him to leave until he had verified that Kaiden was alright. However, once he’d heard that Kaiden was not tranquil, but very much himself, he’d felt increasingly anxious _not_ to see him. How could he face him after what he’d done? And then hearing that Kaiden had sent Feynriel, potentially the most dangerous mage born in an age, to _Tevinter_ …

A knock at the door startled Fenris from his brooding, filling him with sudden hope and trepidation. He had few visitors, and even fewer who bothered to knock on the broken door.

Fenris went to the door and opened it. Kaiden stood there, wearing robes that did not look warm enough for the weather. The flakes of yet another snowfall clung to his shoulders and hair. His hair glowed iridescent orange where it was back-lit by the lamps that lined the plazas of Hightown. Fenris wanted to run his hands through it.

“Can I... come in?”

Fenris could have kicked himself. Had he really just stood there staring? “Yes, of course.” He stepped aside for Kaiden to enter and then closed the door against the chill. It still found its way in however, creating rivulets of cold air through the room.

Fenris raked his hands through his hair. He wasn’t ready to face Kaiden. His thoughts were a mess. Desire, guilt, and anger fought for predominance in his mind.

Kaiden was looking at him. “I was worried about you. This morning… or yesterday? Maker, I need sleep. You left without…”

“I couldn’t… I didn’t know if you’d want me around after-”

“Fenris…”

Anger was simplest. “And I heard enough. You sent the Dreamer to _Tevinter_.” He glared at Kaiden then. “Have you so little regard for anything I say?”

Kaiden flinched. “Not all magisters… What other option was there? The Dalish could not help him. Would you rather him become an abomination?”

“Abomination or weapon of the magisters… There was a third option, Hawke.”

“You think I should have killed the boy for what he could become?”

“He would have been made tranquil.”

The room became even colder. “I will _never_ do that to a mage. I would rather die than be reduced to… an empty shell.”

The statement snuffed out Fenris’s anger. He was no longer thinking of Tevinter, but seeing Kaiden in the Fade, mortally wounded by his sword. “And I nearly… Hawke, I know I have no right to ask forgiveness. In the Fade…”

“Fenris, stop.” Kaiden’s voice was gentle now. “Those were powerful demons. Mages are trained to see through their illusions but… I shouldn’t have brought you there.”

“ _Venhedis!_ ” Fenris looked up into those ice-blue eyes then, disbelieving what he heard. “Are you blaming yourself for _my_ betrayal?”

“I never saw it as that.”

Regardless of how irrational the man was going to be, Fenris wanted Kaiden to at least know that he had not knowingly turned on him. “You didn’t appear to me as yourself when I… I would never have…”

“I know, or at least I hoped that was the case.”

“You appeared to be Danarius.” Kaiden grimaced and looked away. “Hawke?”

His voice sounded choked. “Do you… is that how you see me?”

“What? I was talking about the demon’s illusion.”

“But they can only draw on what is already in your mind.”

“That isn’t fair, Hawke.” Fenris raked his hands through his hair. Kaiden wouldn’t blame him for nearly making him tranquil but would hold the demon’s illusion against him? The man was infuriating. “Do I have to tell you that you’re nothing alike?”

“Apart from being mages?” Kaiden sighed. “I didn’t come here to argue with you, again.”

“What did you come here for?”

“I went with Varric to The Hanged Man after Arianni’s. Your sister got a room there last night. Varric’s checked around. No one came with her, and with the exception of one elf, everyone else on that ship is a sailor or merchant.”

“And this elf?”

Kaiden shrugged. “All I know is that he’s from Antiva and has created a stir at The Blooming Rose.”

It took a moment for the reality to sink in. His sister was here, really here. Somehow he would have been less surprised if Danarius himself had come. “Yet you don’t sound reassured.”

“I’m with you on that; the more it seems not to be a trap, the more I feel that it is. But that’s why I’m coming, right? You wouldn’t drag an evil mage to your reunion otherwise. We’ll go tomorrow.” Kaiden started for the door.

“Hawke…”

“Goodnight, Fenris.” The door shut behind him.

Fenris stared at the door. Kaiden had never been the one to end their conversations. After all this time, he might actually drive the man away. It should be easier if Kaiden hated him; he should have felt relief. Instead there was a terrible ache at the core of his being, as if his own heart were being crushed.

Fenris swore and slammed his fist into the table, the physical pain a momentary distraction from his thoughts. He caught the wine bottle before it fell. He uncorked it and took a long drink, then began to pace before the hearth.

He had accomplished nothing. He didn't want to be bound to anyone, and yet, as many times as he tried, he couldn't bring himself to leave Kirkwall. He had no claim on Kaiden, and the man deserved far better than him, yet Fenris could not stand the thought of him being with anyone else, especially not that abomination. Drinking more of the wine, he tried very hard _not_ to imagine Kaiden with Anders. Fenris’s hands clenched. He might rip that abomination's heart out.

Fenris knew that it could not end well. It was stupid, damned stupid for him to consider being with Kaiden, and yet the past months of pointless hell were worse. He quaffed more of the wine. To the Void with it. He wanted Kaiden back and not just… He wanted back the time that he had wasted, opportunities to read beside the fire, to share a bottle of wine as they talked about anything or nothing at all.

Having made a decision finally brought some peace to the chaos in his mind. Fenris raised the bottle for a drink, only to discover that it was empty. Perhaps it was the wine... no, it wasn’t only the wine. It would give him a semblance of peace, but never hope. Tomorrow he would talk to Kaiden, after the meeting with his sister. They would have the conversation that they should have had a long time ago. Fenris hoped that it wasn’t too late.

* * *

**In the Wildervale of The Free Marches**

He was in a clearing amidst the trees, in a meadow filled with little white flowers that Feynriel could not remember the name of. The sun was low in the sky, soon to be eclipsed behind leaf-laden branches, but for now it cast the land in a warm golden light. The place had a strange familiarity although Feynriel was certain that he had never been here before. As he continued across the meadow, butterflies took flight, looking almost luminous in the last rays of sunlight.

There was a woman, an elven woman in the robes of Tevinter nobility, on the edge of the clearing. She looked out at him from amongst the trees, fine features inscrutable. As he came closer, she reached out a hand to him, beckoning, then turned and disappeared into the forest.

“Hey! Wait a minute!” Feynriel ran forward. He reached the spot where he had seen her standing and looked around. Then he spotted her further back in the forest, again simply standing there, watching him. Feynriel closed the distance again. This time she simply turned and walked ahead of him.

The realization did not hit him until he crossed a Border. They were invisible, these seams in the Fade between one realm, one dream, and another. It seemed that most mortals were unable to cross them, and yet Feynriel crossed them so easily that it had taken him a while to recognize the strange sensation for what it was. It was like stepping through a curtain of magical static.

He stopped. He had been able to leave the Fade, but only once before and Kaiden had been with him. Now he was very much alone. He was not supposed to dream. Keeper Marathari had given him a tea… The last thing he remembered was that he had stopped to rest his horse and was waiting while the tea steeped in the water he had heated.

He looked back to the woman he had been following, uncertain as to what she was. If she was a demon, her behavior was most unusual. She clearly wanted him to follow her, but when he paused, she did not beseech or try to lure him forward with lies and illusions. She just watched him. He had thought her expressionless, but now he saw that it was sadness that had been borne for too long and had settled into quiet despair.

Suddenly, they were no longer in the forest but standing in the hallway of a palace. Feynriel had wandered into others’ dreams only a few times and it was always jarring how frequently the setting would change.

He heard a commotion from down the hall beyond the woman. It sounded like wailing. A nightmare then. Feynriel felt a pang of sympathy for this unknown soul. The sound had caught the elven woman’s attention too and now Feynriel saw that she was crying. Damn it all. He ran down the hall past her into an antechamber that would have stunned him with its gilded magnificence, had not his attention been drawn to the gathering at its center.

There were about a dozen humans and elves that looked to be servants. In their midst, a dark-haired man in the blue robes of a Tevinter magister was being presented with the body of a half-elven boy. The boy appeared to be about Feynriel’s age and had been killed by a blow to the heart. Falling to his knees, the man rent his robe and let out a soul-rending wail. The aspect of such naked pain tore through Feynriel and he turned away. He should not be here.

The woman was now weeping in the arms of a half-elven man. Feynriel did a double-take as he realized it was the boy who had been killed. Could these two be ghosts? Feynriel hadn’t thought such a thing was possible. The half-elf fixed his eyes on Feynriel. The wordless plea was clear. _Go to him._

Feynriel turned back to the gathering. They were growing indistinct and he realized that the man must be waking. Without thinking, he dashed forward and grabbed the man’s shoulders. Suddenly, they were standing in a field of white flowers. Had Feynriel done that?

The man turned to Feynriel in bewilderment and said something that Feynriel did not understand. The man looked older now. His face was lined and his dark hair and beard run through with gray. Feynriel was now very conscious that he had accosted a Tevinter magister. They were in the Fade, but still…

“Forgive the intrusion, mesere. I was… brought here by your family.” Maker he hoped he had guessed that right.

“My…” The man looked around, baffled. He narrowed his gaze at Feynriel. “Who are you?”

“My name is Feynriel. I-”

The man looked tired. “Are you a demon? Here to offer me…” The man turned away. “Your visions are nothing compared to my own memories. You waste your time.”

“No! If I were a demon there would be… but nevermind. I am a Dreamer.”

The man looked back at him and rubbed a hand across his beard. “A Dreamer? _Somniari?_ It has been many ages since they walked the Fade.”

“Two, I am told. Those born since have not survived.”

“And yet here you are.”

“I have resisted the demons, so far, but… I need help. The Dalish tried and I had fewer nightmares… for a time. I’m tired of hiding. I must have these powers for a reason. I thought that in Tevinter…”

“You could be taught by a magister as he used you to neatly eliminate his rivals?”

Feynriel felt a chill. “You can’t all be… You seem like a good man, mesere.”

“I am not a good man, Feynriel. Many have suffered for my failings. Yet… I will help you. I take it you are from one of the southern lands? Your accent is not Dalish.”

“I was raised in Kirkwall.”

“One of the Marcher cities. Can you make it north to Tantervale?”

“I can do that.” He had set out to make it all the way to Tevinter alone. Getting to the third largest city in the Free Marches was nothing in comparison.

“Good. I am currently in the south of the Imperium. I will meet you there at the Crescent Moon Inn. Speak to the proprietor, an elven woman named Anara. Tell her that you are a guest of Gaius Comodus and she shall get you whatever you need.”

“Thank you, thank you!” He was so overcome with relief that he could think of nothing else to say as they faded toward waking.

The man smiled. “Safe travels to you, Feynriel.”


	9. The Hanged Man

**Kirkwall – Lowtown**

Varric met Hawke and Fenris outside The Hanged Man early that morning while most of the town was still asleep. Lowtown was somehow uglier this time of day; the people that gave it life were absent but there was enough light to see the refuse. The light wasn’t kind to these two men either this morning. Neither looked like he’d slept much and the tension between them was almost palpable. Varric adjusted the weight of his crossbow on his back. “Well, she’s definitely your sister,” He wished that he knew anything else with certainty.

Fenris’s green eyes narrowed. “How can you be sure? If this is a trap, Danarius could sent chosen an elf who looks enough like me.”

Varric shook his head. “That’s just it – she doesn’t. If I were to choose an imposter, she’d have dark skin at the least.”

Hawke asked, “What does she look like then?”

“More like you in many ways – pale skin and red hair.”

Fenris scowled. “You believe she’s my sister because she doesn’t look like me?”

“She doesn’t look like you in the obvious ways, but I see you in her face. You both have the same eyes.”

Hawke visibly relaxed. “So this is for real?”

“Really his sister, but that’s all I’m certain about.”

“What do you mean?” Fenris shifted his weight and glanced at the tavern, clearly anxious to get to this meeting, regardless of their misgivings.

“Well, she’s nervous. And she’s barely left her room since arriving.”

“There could be lots of reasons for that,” Hawke offered. “This is probably her first time traveling so far and especially if she did come alone…”

Varric shrugged. “All true. But I hate not being certain. Something just doesn’t feel right… Or maybe nothing feels right after the Fade…” The looks on each man’s face made Varric regret bringing that up. “But let’s go meet her, right? I don’t see any other way we’re going to get more information – unless you’ve changed your mind, Broodie?”

Fenris shook his head and moved to the tavern door. “I have to see her.”

* * *

Varania sat at one of the half dozen wooden tables on the tavern’s main floor. The large room was empty save for the serving girl who was wiping down the bar. Varania felt sympathy for the futility of her task – the wood had been stained and re-stained beyond what any amount of cleaning could remove.

She’d been told that Fenris was on his way, but time passed with painful deliberation, giving Varania too much time to think. She wondered again why her master had chosen this place for their meeting and why he seemed more concerned with the nobleman than her brother. It seemed more interest than fear and indeed, Varania could not imagine her master being afraid of anyone. She had not asked him any of her questions, however; Danarius did not approve of being questioned. He would not scold her, but his eyes would harden and he would frown ever so slightly. She could not bear that look.

When at last the tavern door opened, Varania jumped in her seat. Folding her hands on the table, she deliberately composed herself. Still, she could not prepare herself for the shock of seeing Leto – Fenris – again for the first time after more than a decade. He looked the same as she remembered him, that one time she’d seen him after he’d received the lyrium tattoos, even wearing the same black armor. His hair was still white, having never returned to the black it had been before. He was still lean and strong. What changes she saw were subtle and appeared to be wear rather than age. There was a hardness to him and shadows in his eyes. For a moment, those shadows vanished when he saw her. “Varania…” He looked astonished, as if he’d expected to find someone else, or more likely, he’d not expected to recognize her at all. “I remember you. We used to play in the courtyard while mother worked. You would call me…”

“Leto.” Varania spoke at last, her voice quivering slightly. “That was your name.” She spared a cursory look at the two men who had entered the tavern with Fenris – a human and a dwarf. The human let his long red hair fall free over the simple blue robe he wore. The dwarf was more unusual. While all the male dwarves that Varania had ever seen had full beards, this dwarf had merely stubble over strongly masculine features. He was blond and wore and embroidered coat with no shirt underneath. All three men looked wary – men of action and not nobility. Varania’s attention returned to her brother as he approached her table. She reached out and grabbed his hand, somehow fearing that even now, some force might come to snatch him away from her. Fenris withdrew from her touch, as if she had shocked him.

His voice was a quiet hiss. “You’re a mage!”

“Yes. I’ve always had… Does it matter?”

Fenris only scowled at her, as if weighing how great a sin it was that she had magical ability. How could he not recall her being a mage and yet still bear her jealousy? She felt her heart sink. She’d hoped the past could be put behind them.

The dwarf gave her a warm smile then. “Don’t take it personally. Perhaps some introductions are in order? I’m Varric Tethras, merchant and story teller, at your service.” He gave a flourish and bow. “The human is Kaiden Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall.”

The red-haired man rolled his eyes. “I do wish you’d stop using that title, Varric. It makes me feel like I should wear shining armor and ride around on a white stallion.”

Varric dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “Too cliché. I’d rather you ride around on a dragon, or a wyvern at the least.”

The man named Kaiden Hawke smirked. “I’ll see what I can do.” He turned his attention to Varania then and she felt compassion in his gaze where before there had been a measure of suspicion. “You have traveled a long way to meet your brother. It must be difficult after so long, and now to be in a foreign land alone…”

Varania felt flustered but smiled. “Your concern is appreciated. I-” 

“How can you be a mage?” Fenris continued to glare at her.

Varania returned her attention to him, pained that their brief connection had been so quickly spoiled. “How is anyone a mage? I was born with the gift. You must not remember.”

“Danarius would have known.”

“He did know, Fenris. He was going to train me but… It doesn’t matter. Everything’s going to be alright now.” There was no need to bring up how her ‘freedom’ had nearly cost her the chance to use her magic. She wanted to leave that pain in the past now that things were being set to right. “You don’t have to serve that nobleman anymore. You can come home.”

“What are you talking about?”

 

“ _‘Serve that nobleman?’_ ” Kaiden stared at Fenris. “Is _that_ what you told her?”

Fenris raked a hand through his hair. “ _Venhedis_ , Hawke, I never wrote such a thing!”

Varania looked at Kaiden again. “Wait, _you’re_ the nobleman?!” Everything about his appearance and bearing suggested otherwise.

Kaiden turned away. “Maybe I should go…”

Varania felt the Veil quiver and then heard Danarius from the upstairs landing behind her. “Not just yet, my boy.” The inn was silent a moment as everyone turned toward her master. He was descending the staircase to the main floor, flanked by two of his mage assistants.

“Shit.” The dwarf drew his crossbow and fired several bolts. Varania gasped. Danarius merely raised a hand, slowing the bolts to a stop and hover in the air before him. He made a dismissive gesture then and the half-dozen bolts clattered to the floorboards.

Fenris’s expression changed from shock to rage as he turned back to Varania. “You led him here!”

Varania glared at Kaiden, holding what Danarius had told her foremost in her mind, holding onto her anger. “I had no choice.”

Danarius spoke again, his voice still calm but with a weight of authority. "Now, now, Fenris. Don't blame your sister. She did as any good Imperial citizen should. Varania, do escort the staff outside. We will join you shortly.”

Varania wanted to protest, not wanting to leave her brother here, not after so long, not when he didn’t seem to understand what was going on. But she moved to obey without a word and escorted the frightened barmaid outside.

* * *

Fenris wished that he had never let Hadriana speak, had never learned of his sister’s existence. There was no past for him to reclaim, only another mage who had betrayed him. Turning from watching Varania leave, Fenris met Danarius’s gaze and his anger fell into something darker. This had been inevitable. Danarius gave him that smile that didn’t meet his eyes and then pointedly looked over Kaiden. "So this your new master, Fenris? The Champion of Kirkwall? Impressive."

Kaiden’s voice was hard. "Fenris doesn't _belong_ to anyone."

"Doesn't he?" When Danarius spoke again his voice was quiet. "Fenris, come here."

Fenris was no longer aware of anything beyond Danarius. Everything else, his years on the run, his time in Kirkwall, all were insubstantial as dreams. Fenris felt himself moving toward Danarius. It was inevitable. A hand grabbed his arm and he heard a voice, strange and incomprehensible, as if his head were underwater. He turned toward the source of the voice, the red-haired man gripping his arm. It took him a moment to realize that it was Kaiden. It didn’t make any sense for him to be here with him and Danarius; he belonged to another world. Kaiden was yelling at Danarius now, full of righteous anger at his controlling Fenris with magic. If only that were the case. He had simply not thought to do anything but obey, now that Danarius was here before him. It was inevitable.

Danarius spoke again. "Don't make yourself a fool, boy. Even an unschooled mage such as yourself can see that we have cast no spells. I trained my little wolf well, something I imagine you tasted when you awakened the lyrium with your magic."

It had been a mistake to bring Kaiden here. He had known Danarius would be waiting for him and it was stupid to imagine that he could fight him. He couldn’t stand for Kaiden to know he had almost been relieved to see Danarius.

Danarius chuckled. "I thought I detected a note of jealousy. The lad is rather skilled, isn't he?"

The comment jarred Fenris from his introspection and he met Kaiden’s eyes. Shocked by the pain he found there, Fenris tried to put together what he could be thinking. Danrius’s implication… Shit. “No.” Fenris struggled to find his voice. “I won’t let him… What happened between us was real.” Kaiden pulled Fenris against him in a tight embrace. He felt the man’s breath hitch against his ear.

Danarius had heard it too. "My congratulations, Champion. Besides me, no one gained my little wolf's affection, although there were many who-"

"Shut your mouth!" Kaiden snarled as he threw a fireball at Danarius, who instantly diffused it.

"I leave the details up to you, but make no mistake: Fenris is _mine_."

"Over my dead body."

Danarius smirked. "As you wish."

* * *

Danarius brandished his staff and Kaiden immediately cast a shield spell, but the magister had not directed his power at them. Kaiden looked around as the floor began to shake. An earthquake spell? He cried out in surprise as something grabbed his ankle. Looking down, he saw a fleshless arm had torn through the floorboards, its bony fingers now wrapped around his boot. He tried to yank himself free but it was no use. With strength beyond what had once been bestowed by muscle and sinew, the thing wrenched his leg and sent him sprawling on his back. The floorboards exploded into splinters as the undead tore itself from the ground and lunged at him. Instinctively, Kaiden cast another shield. There was a flash of steel and then the skeleton came apart, bones bouncing harmlessly off Kaiden's magical barrier. A gauntletted hand was lowered to him and he grabbed it. Fenris pulled him to his feet and scowled. "The Hanged Man indeed. I always thought the name a bad omen."

Kaiden was relieved that Fenris was again himself, almost as relieved as he’d been when Fenris had dispelled Kaiden’s fear that he’d… used him. He shuddered. Another crash sounded behind him and he heard Varric’s crossbow twang. He had to focus. Looking around them, Kaiden saw that some two dozen zombies had emerged in the tavern. Several of them were armed. This was why Danarius had chosen this location. This place had once literally been a gallows. So many dead, so violently, had made the Veil thin. This was why Varric had found no sign of an ambush. There had been nothing to find. There was no need for Danarius to bring servants when he could call forth undead.

Kaiden readied his staff. They had fought side-by-side many times and the three of them knew their parts. Varric launched a volley of arrows across the courtyard while Kaiden cast a cone of ice through a group nearby. Fenris tore through the now frozen undead, shattering them with his greatsword. Kaiden only wished that Anders was here with his spells imbuing speed and strength and most important, healing. Kaiden had some ability with that school of magic but if they were seriously injured they would have to rely on potions… and he had forgotten to bring any potions. Shit.

At first it seemed they might defeat the undead, but the longer they fought, the more thickly they were surrounded. Kaiden bashed a skeleton with his staff and then sent an ice bolt through another. Hadn't he already destroyed that one? The next corpse he incinerated already had two of Varric's crossbow bolts through its skull. Apparently Danarius could reanimate them endlessly. This was not a fight they could win. Kaiden began to move toward the door. If they could just make it out then…

It happened too fast. As Fenris hefted his greatsword to dispatch another undead, a sword was plunged into his side. The blade slid between armor and ribs and out the other side with an explosion of blood. The greatsword clattered to the floor and Fenris fell to his knees.

For a moment, panic erased all thought from Kaiden's mind, and then was replaced by singular focus: Fenris could not die. That was all that mattered. With a burst of magic he hadn't realized was in him, Kaiden sent a shockwave into the undead, throwing them back as he ran forward.

When he reached Fenris, the elf was already unconscious, lying in a growing pool of blood, his skin pale. He had moments left. Kaiden's magic was spent. It was just like the vision. In that moment he knew what it was that the desire demon had offered him. Fenris was no longer breathing. There was only one choice. Kaiden drew a dagger and slashed it across his own arm and opened himself up to… Power. Kaiden gasped as magic flooded his being and overwhelmed his senses, like hard liquor gone straight to his head. He directed that power toward Fenris, healing as not even Anders had done before. It left him feeling drained, lightheaded, dizzy – or maybe that was his own loss of blood. _Breathe, come on breathe._ Not realizing he was holding his own breath, he focused all his will on the elf. At last Fenris gasped and Kaiden slumped in relief. He reached a trembling hand for the elf.

Fenris opened his eyes and stared at Kaiden in horror. "Blood magic!"

Kaiden withdrew his hand and realized it was covered in his own blood. His gaze dropped from those accusing green eyes as he wiped it on his robe. "You would have died."

"And so you saved me for Danarius?"

"No!"

Fenris sighed as he looked past Kaiden. "There isn't-"

"NO!" Kaiden couldn't stand the resignation on Fenris's face, that he would actually go with Danarius, that he would think Kaiden would just stand aside and let him. Anger fed the new power coursing through his veins and in turn was fed by it. He stood to face Danarius.

* * *

After what had seemed destined to be an unending assault, the undead had suddenly stopped attacking and now hung back in a circle around Kaiden and Fenris. Varric had stared in horror at a scene that was too much like what had just happened in the Fade – only this time it was Fenris mortally wounded and neither Anders nor any kind spirit was there to help them. He didn’t even have healing potions. Shit.

Yet Kaiden had slashed his arm and then seemed almost taken over with power, the way Anders was when he changed into Justice-form. Varric was certain that he’d never seen Kaiden use blood magic before and while he didn’t care about the Chantry’s condemnation of it, he hoped that Hawke hadn’t done something irreversible. Then too, he knew that losing Fenris, after everyone else he had lost and continued to blame himself for, would have destroyed Kaiden.

He noticed one of Danarius’s assistants start to raise his hands to cast but the magister stopped him with a gesture. Varric wondered what the mage had intended to do, more than that, what that magister was waiting for. Right now he merely watched, his expression almost amused.

Varric’s relief that Fenris lived was replaced with a grimace as he heard the accusing words, ‘blood magic’. More was said that Varric couldn’t entirely make out and then Hawke shouted ‘no’ and now stood, facing Danarius. The magister continued watching him, calm, expectant even.

"Let us go, Danarius, or I swear I will use every last ounce of my blood to kill you."

Danarius raised his eyebrows. "You would die for him?"

"Yes."

"Then I propose a trade."

Fenris spoke then. "I am not yours to bar-"

Danarius threw up a hand and bound Fenris in some sort of magic. "Silence."

Flames spilled from Kaiden’s hands, curling up his arms. "Release him!" Varric had never seen Hawke use magic like this. Even after healing Fenris, power continued to spill out of him.

"That is what we are discussing." Danarius looked less calm now, his voice hard. "I propose a blood contract. I shall release Fenris and renounce my claim on him, if you surrender yourself to me in his place."

“Shit. Kaiden, no!” The thought of Hawke surrendering to that monster made Varric sick. Danarius snarled and threw a spell at him and suddenly he could neither move nor speak, only watch. His fear for all of them tightened into a knot in his belly. Being a dwarf, he was immune to many spells but this magister’s magic was powerful.

Kaiden glanced back at him, apology in his eyes, and then turned back to Danarius. "You shall release both Fenris and Varric and never pursue either of them nor any of my companions ever again. And I promise only to surrender myself to you here and accompany you to Minrathous. Whether or not you can keep me there is your own affair."

Danarius smiled then. "That does make it more interesting. Very well, Champion. We have a deal. Now, kneel before your master."

Kaiden dropped to his knees. The robed men who had accompanied Danarius brought out shackles marbled with an orange substance that reminded Varric of lyrium. Kaiden’s arms were pulled roughly behind his back and manacled. His feet were likewise shackled and a metal collar clinched around his neck. Whatever that metal was, it clearly took away Hawke’s power. He slumped and fell to his side. At a motion from Danarius, one of the robed men began weaving a spell over Hawke. It might have been a healing spell, for Kaiden moved slightly and spoke, his voice groggy, “Anders?”

Danarius laughed. He directed his servants to take Kaiden to their ship and then cast a spell of his own. The undead – Varric had forgotten all about them – moved again and crawled back into the floor, dragging floorboards back over themselves and then somehow those were mended too. The magister surveyed the tavern one last time, evidently pleased with his work. He looked at Varric then. “The bindings will dissipate after a while. I cannot have you two hounding us to the ship if I am to abide by my bargain.” The magister moved to step out the door but paused. He turned and gave Fenris a wink. “I shall enjoy breaking your Champion.” wink. “I shall enjoy breaking your Champion.”


	10. Shackles

**A Ship Bound for Tevinter**

“We’re… leaving him?” It wasn’t until they were back aboard ship that Varania finally worked up the nerve to question her master’s actions.

Danarius turned to her and she feared to see that look of disapproval, but what he evidently considered a victory at The Hanged Man had put him in a generous mood. “Do not fret, Varania. Your brother will join us soon. We have removed all that was holding him back.” He turned to his prize, the chained red-haired mage, still unconscious, and ran a hand through the man’s hair admiringly. “A fine specimen, is he not?”

Varania didn’t know how to respond to that. He was a handsome man but surely that was not what her master was referring to. “He was the nobleman? I thought southern mages were kept in Circles. And he didn’t seem-”

Danarius interrupted her with a dismissive wave of his hand. “None of that matters. He will be my weapon. He has ability in all four schools of magic and his body should be strong enough to survive the lyrium.”

“The lyrium?”

Danarius frowned. “Why do you think I held a tournament all those years ago? It was not to find the best fighter so much as the strongest, most tenacious. Leto was a success. Can you image what a mage inscribed with lyrium could do? But none has survived the ritual. This ‘Champion of Kirkwall’ will.”

* * *

**Kirkwall – A Borrowed Mansion**

Magic had tainted everything. Fenris grabbed one of the few remaining intact chairs and smashed it to the floor. There was no past for him to reclaim. Magic had taken that too. He threw the splintered pieces into the fire. Why had he stayed in this Tevinter’s mansion? He hated this shithole town, festering in blood magic. He should have left long ago. He began collecting things, throwing them on the fire, as if were it hot enough, it could burn away the taint of this place.

He paused upon picking up the book Kaiden had given him. Fenris had felt ashamed for Kaiden to find out that he didn’t even know how to read, but Kaiden had pointed out how fast he picked up new languages, that of course he could learn to read in no time. Kaiden was always seeing the best in people, especially him. The man was an idiot, living in a fantasy world.

Fenris fell to his knees. The smoke from the fire must be choking him. His eyes blurred and he couldn’t breathe. The events of the day ran again and again through his mind. _He was lying on the ground, bound by some cursed magic, helpless to do or say anything. He saw Kaiden kneel before that monster, saw him chained like an animal, saw Danarius, triumphant, looking at Kaiden the way Fenris remembered..._ Fenris heard a scream and realized it came from him. He did not try to stop it; he couldn’t contain the anger anymore. He screamed his hatred until he retched, then lay on the floor shaking. His voice came out a hoarse whisper, “I will kill you, I swear to all the gods and demons I will kill you, you bastard.”

* * *

**A Ship Bound for Tevinter**

Kaiden awoke to the creaking of a ship, the smell of the sea, and a splitting headache. Cold metal bit into his neck, wrists, and ankles, while incongruously, he was enveloped in softness. Someone had changed him out of his battle-ruined attire and into a clean robe. Opening his eyes, he saw that he was lying on a cot in a small room below deck. It was dimly lit by a lantern swinging overhead, but he could see the red-haired elf sitting near him. It was Varania, Fenris' sister. Anger envenomed him. His magic flared and Kaiden hissed in pain as the acrid metal of his bonds drained off his mana. It felt like sticks being pulled out from under his skin.

Varania's voice was soft. "Do not try to use magic. That only makes it worse."

"Don't pretend you care." When Kaiden tried unsuccessfully to sit up, Varania moved to help him. "Stay away from me!" Kaiden twisted and managed to maneuver himself into a sitting position.

Varania sighed. "I'm sorry-"

"Like hell you are! How could you betray your own brother?"

"It's not like that. I had no choice. I-"

"Bullshit. We all have choices."

"Just listen!" She continued, her voice again quiet. "I don't expect you to understand. You don't know what it's like in Tevinter. This-"

"You would have returned him to _slavery_ to that _monster_." Kaiden wanted to strangle her. He didn't give a shit for whatever sob story she wanted to tell him. He might not know what it was like in Tevinter, but she did. And she had been willing to drag her brother back into it.

Anger flashed in those olivine eyes, so much like her brother's. "You Marchers are hypocrites. You make the elves in your cities do your work but you take no responsibility for their welfare."

"What has... It's not right how they're treated, but at least they're free."

"Free from what? Freedom meant more work but no home. It meant losing..." Varania bit her lower lip and turned away.

Kaiden made a point of looking at her chartreuse silk robe. "You seem to have done alright for yourself."

She turned back to him with a glare. "Thanks to Danarius! I almost-"

" _Thanks to Danarius?!_ Do you even know what that bastard did to Fenris?"

"Danarius gave him power, more than most elves in Thedas dare hope for – slave or free."

Kaiden gaped at her. Could she really be so blind? He thought of telling her what he knew yet... even if she would believe him, it was not his right to tell. "So you believe Danarius has a right to... to own Fenris?" Kaiden could hardly bring himself to even say it.

"More right than you did."

"What?" It took all Kaiden's focus to keep his magic from rising again. Calling a firestorm down on this ship was increasingly appealing. "How could you think... I was his friend." Maker, how he wished he could claim to be more. "What did he write you?"

Her gaze fell. "I don't know. Danarius told me..." She shook her head. "I don't know what to believe anymore. You are a strange man, Kaiden Hawke."

"So I've been told."

"You are a powerful mage and of noble blood. In Tevinter, you would have been a magister."

"And?"

"And yet you surrendered yourself into slavery. Why?"

"Do you truly not know?"

Varania looked away. As she sat there worrying her lower lip, Kaiden leaned back against the rough wood wall and watched her. There was nothing more to say. Although part of him wanted to yell at her, he knew he would lose control of his magic. It was too much a part of him to separate the response from his emotions. He really hated these shackles. They presented a choice of pain or self-imposed tranquility. After several minutes, Varania stood and left without replying.

* * *

**Kirkwall – The Hanged Man**

Anders went to The Hanged Man early that evening. It was a while before the rest of the group was to show up, but the waiting was driving him crazy. He hadn't opened his clinic today. After Varric had told him the news he'd been too distraught to trust himself to focus his magic.

Nothing looked out of the ordinary on the main floor of the tavern. It was still early, but there were already a few regulars at the bar. Had it really been only this morning that Kaiden had been taken from this place in chains? Anders closed his eyes as the pain hit him anew. Why hadn't he been there? Surely he – certainly Justice – could have saved Kaiden. No doubt it was because Fenris didn't want ‘that abomination’ there. Did that bigoted elf ever think of anyone but himself?

Anders ascended the stairs to Varric's suite and found the dwarf pouring over maps and charts with Aveline. Fenris was sitting by himself in front of the fire, his head in his hands. Anders decided to ignore him for now and walked over to the table.

"Hello, Blondie." Varric smiled at him, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"You two already have a plan in the works?"

Aveline shook her head. "Not yet, I'm afraid. Normally, one should plan this sort of operation weeks in advance. With-"

"We have to leave now!" Fenris slammed his fists to the table. "Every moment we delay Hawke is…" He raked a hand through his hair then stood and began to pace, muttering something in Tevene.

Anders crossed his arms and glared at the elf. "Maybe you should have thought of that before you dragged him into a trap."

Fenris winced. "I never thought…"

"No! You never thought about Kaiden, did you?"

Aveline turned from the table. "Anders!"

Fenris glared at him. "You have _no_ idea."

" _I_ was-"

" _Boys!_ Maybe we should rescue the lad before we fight over him, hmm?" Isabela had just walked in, followed by an elf who looked like he'd stepped from the pages of one of the salacious novels she fancied. Long blond hair cascaded down a billowy shirt that was unlaced halfway down his chest. He wore tight leather pants and – most surprising to see on an elf – leather boots. Two swords hung from a low-slung belt.

"Oooh, I think I may have to enter this challenge." The blond elf spoke with a sensual Antivan accent. "That or solace the loser."

Fenris turned his glare on the elf while Aveline shook her head. "Now about the rescue…"

Isabela beamed. "We can leave tomorrow!"

"You… have a crew then?" Isabela had acquired a ship, but last Anders had heard, it had no crew and needed a bit of work done. She'd said something about barnacles and mustard-colored furnishings.

Aveline scowled as she looked the blond elf up and down. "Not all from the Blooming Rose, I hope."

"Now there's a thought… but no. Someone," she winked at Varric, "spread the word that Kaiden's in trouble and that we're going to get him out of it. We now have a crew and my ship is being outfitted as we speak. An associate of mine has also offered his services." She exchanged a smile with the elf. "This is Zevran, a former Antivan Crow."

Zevran bowed with flourish. "A pleasure."

" _The_ Zevran? Who traveled with the Warden Commander?" Anders remembered Lorynn Amell telling him of the roguish elf who had become her friend.

"Ah! You've heard of me then? Something naughty I hope?"

Anders couldn't help smiling as he shook his head. "You're exactly as Lorynn described."

"Really? She described my devastating good looks? And here I thought she had eyes only for Alistair…"

Anders sighed. "That she did."

Fenris's eyes narrowed. "Why would a Crow wish to help us?"

"Former Crow, my friend. And that is answer in itself. I will be harder for them to find at sea."

When Fenris continued to frown, Anders rolled his eyes. "He's a friend of the Hero of Fereldan. Stop being so suspicious."

"Ah, no, you are right to be suspicious. If I were this magister you're after, I would _definitely_ hire me."

While Aveline looked taken aback by the statement, Fenris just shook his head. "Danarius would not hire you. He desires that I follow him to Minrathous."

"So it is a trap we walk into? Nothing like certain death to get the blood pumping."

Isabela started to pull him down the hall toward her room. "I can think of other ways to get the blood pumping."

"Isabela, you saucy minx, I have missed you."

"You always did have piss-poor aim. Luckily, you're good for other things."

As they entered her room, Varric turned to Anders. "You're certain he's from an infamous order of assassins?"

Zevran poked his head back out the door. "That, my friend, is why I am so good at it." He winked at Anders before he was pulled back into the room and the door shut.

Aveline seemed to suddenly realize that she was standing with her mouth agape. "Why am I even surprised?" She turned back to Varric. "Well, it looks like you have passage after all. I wish I could come with you all." To Fenris she added, "I'll make sure your mansion is still here for you when you get back."

"I have no further need of it. Do with it as you will." He nodded to Varric and started toward the stairs.

Aveline moved to intercept him. "Fenris…" But he avoided her and continued out.

Anders wondered if that meant that Fenris was leaving Kirkwall permanently. "About time-"

"Shut up!" Anders was startled when Aveline turned on him. "You don't know what it is to feel responsible for losing someone you love." That was not true, however Anders had only told Hawke about Karl. While he saw no point in arguing it now, Anders didn't believe that Fenris loved Hawke or was even capable of it. Aveline continued, more to herself than to him, "Not that Hawke is lost. I know you'll get him back." The full weight of her focus returned to Anders and the way she looked at him, Anders was thankful she wasn't a mage. "Be civil or at least keep your mouth shut." As she took her leave, Anders refrained from comment. He'd found it wisest not to argue with an angry woman, and every so often, he decided to follow his better judgment.

Varric rolled up the map of Thedas. "Well, this is already shaping up to be an interesting tale. Now to make sure it has a happy ending." Anders wholeheartedly agreed.


	11. A Magister's Apprentice

**A Ship Bound for Tevinter**

Varania leaned over the side of the deck and retched. She closed her eyes tight and then opened them again. The image wouldn’t leave her mind. Eyes… dozens of lifeless eyes and so much blood… Clinging to the rough wooden railing, she tried to slow her breathing. Her body was no longer listening to her, drawing spastic gasps of air around the lump in her throat. She tightened her grip on the rail and tried to pull her mind to where she was now, the salty spray in her face, the creak of the ship beneath her. The air was warm and humid, so much different than the biting cold of Kirkwall’s winter.

When Danarius had taken on a number of destitute elves and refugees at Kirkwall, she had thought it a testament to her master’s kindness. Now he had killed them, all of them, using their blood to weave a spell that had brought them nearly all the way back to Minrathous. They would reach port tomorrow morning.

Rubbing shaking hands over her face, Varania stepped back from the side. She should go to her room below deck. It wouldn’t do for Danarius to see her distress. Once below deck, she diverted her course several times to avoid the crew. Somehow she found herself outside the door to the room where Kaiden Hawke was kept prisoner. What madness drove a man to give up wealth and power and consign himself to slavery? She felt the answer, just outside of her awareness, but she could not bring herself to consider it. She had not stopped thinking about what Kaiden had said. While part of her still wanted to believe Danarius, it no longer made sense. She sighed. Really, it didn’t matter what she thought. There was nothing she could do that would accomplish anything beyond her own ruin. And yet… Pushing the door open, she stepped inside. The man lay on the cot, his eyes closed, asleep perhaps, yet there was a tension about him that suggested otherwise. Varania turned to pull the door quietly shut behind her.

“Varania.”

Looking back over her shoulder, she saw him watching her. His pale eyes appeared almost colorless in the dim light of the overhead lantern. As he turned his head to face her, Varania saw that the left side of his face was swollen where his fair features were marred by a bruise. “What…?”

He met her look with confusion, and then comprehension. “I said something Danarius didn’t like.”

Stepping closer, Varania began the weave of a healing spell.

Kaiden watched her hands, then met her eyes and shook his head. “Think about what you are doing, Varania.”

“I can heal you.”

“What would Danarius think?”

Baffled by this objection, Varania dropped the weave. “Why do you care?”

“If you are going to act against his wishes, I would have it be for more than a mere bruise.”

She stared at him. “I thought you hated me.” She regretted the words as soon as she’d said them, but Kaiden did not appear angered.

“I’ve been thinking over what you said. I may not know what it is like in Tevinter, but I do know something about Danarius… You may not be blameless, but I have no doubt that he manipulated you. For what it’s worth, Varania, I forgive you.” When Varania only gaped at him, he continued. “I can help you-”

“You can help me?” Varania fought to lower the hysterical pitch of her voice. “Why… _How_ can you possibly help me? You’re…” She gestured toward his chains.

Something about his expression hardened, she thought it was his eyes. “I am going to escape. And when-”

“No one escapes Danarius.”

“Your brother did.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Fenris was separated from Danarius in battle. That’s not…” His look stopped her and she didn’t realize she’d stepped away until she felt the door against her back. She knew he was chained and thus powerless to harm her and yet something in her told her to run.

“It does not matter. Fenris is free now. As for me, Danarius will have to kill me to keep me. I invite you to stand with me, but I warn you not to stand against me. I do not want to, but if I have to, I _will_ kill you.”

Of that Varania had no doubt.

* * *

**Tantervale of the Free Marches**

It was dusk when Feynriel reached the outskirts of Tantervale, third largest city in the Free Marches. Like Kirkwall, the city proper was a labyrinth of white stone edifices that had been built when the city was one more outpost of the massive Tevinter empire. The town felt austere, even more tightly in the grip of the chantry than Kirkwall. Feynriel felt like he must be as conspicuous as a fiery rage demon but he resisted the urge to run or to look too long at the templars that seemed to be around every corner. No one would know that he was a mage if he did not use his magic. He reminded himself that he was as invisible here as elves everywhere across Thedas. He was just another servant on some errand. Keeping his pace unhurried, Feynriel fell in with the current of people flowing from places of work to homes and taverns

While he did not know these streets as he did Kirkwall’s, Feynriel quickly deduced the one rule to Tantervale’s layout: the wealthier the establishment, the further it was upriver. Considering that he had been directed by a wealthy magister, Feynriel assumed that The Crescent Moon Inn would be located upriver. He was not mistaken. There was no missing the three-story tavern with a carving of a crescent moon gleaming above its entrance. Looking from the magnificent building to his rough and now dirty traveling robes, Feynriel felt a return of his unease. He would stand out in such a place, and yet it was where he had to go for help with his nightmares. He could do this. After demons, what were a few rude _shemlens_?

It was not a human, however, but a well-dressed elf who stopped him at the door. “You are not from around here.” It was a statement, not a question. “You will find more affordable lodging further down river.”

“I… I was sent here to see Anara.” What would he do if this elf wouldn’t let him past? Feynriel wondered if he would get in trouble if he waited outside the inn for the magister.

The elf frowned and lowered his voice. “Who sent you?”

Feynriel swallowed. For a dreadful moment, his mind was blank and he could not recall the magister’s name. Then he imagined he was in the Fade, facing a demon who sought to mislead him through intimidation. “Magister Gaius Commodus sent me.”

Surprise flashed across the elf’s face and left a less severe expression in its wake. “Follow me.” Feynriel was led through the spacious dining hall, up a staircase, and shown to a room. From there it was a blur of bath and soap and linens and food and wine and luxuries that Feynriel supposed were to make him comfortable, but they had the effect of making him increasingly anxious. He felt like an imposter and feared that when he finally met this Anara, she would declare that he was no guest of a magister and sell him into slavery to pay for everything. Feynriel tried to push the thought from his mind and enjoy the delicious food the servants had brought for him, but he was too anxious to eat.

There was a soft knock at the door. Opening it, he was faced with a beautiful elven woman. Her dark hair was pulled back in intricate braiding, revealing the half dozen earrings she wore.

“Welcome to Tantervale, Feynriel.” Her accent was Antivan. “Magister Gaius arrived just this afternoon. He is anxious to meet you, but I imagine that you are tired after your journey. You can-”

“No, thank you, that isn’t necessary.” _Keep a magister waiting?_ “I would like to meet him now, if… uh, he’s available?”

She smiled. “Of course. Please come with me.” As Feynriel stepped out of his room, she touched his arm. “Don’t be afraid. Gaius is a good man.”

“How do you know magister Gaius?”

Anara was quiet a moment. “We all have a past.” They walked in silence the rest of the way down the hall until Anara stopped and knocked at a door. She spoke a word that Feynriel did not recognize and the door was opened.

Feynriel almost didn’t recognize Gaius wearing a common traveling robe rather than the distinctive garb of a Tevinter magister. “Thank you, Anara.” The magister smiled and motioned for him to come in. “Feynriel, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thank you, magister.” Feynriel stepped into the room, which appeared to be part of a suite, an antechamber for receiving guests. Comfy chairs were grouped around the perimeter. When the door had clicked shut behind him, Gaius cast a ward across it and then turned to him, as if now really seeing him. “So it is true. A _somniari_ again walks the Fade.”

“You… thought I wouldn’t be here?”

“I did not know what to expect. A trap seemed most likely…” Gaius frowned. “No, that isn’t true. Somehow, I knew that I would find you here, even if a rational explanation was lacking.” Gaius motioned for Feynriel to sit and then took a chair across from him. “What made you seek me out?”

Feynriel was surprised by the question, but then maybe the magister had not remembered all he’d said in the dream. “I need help to control this power, to stop the nightmares.”

Gaius nodded. “I understand why you seek help from Tevinter, yet… Surely you know that almost any magister would take a _somniari_ as an apprentice.”

_Apprentice?_ Feynriel hadn’t thought about what he would be in Tevinter. All his focus had been on getting there without turning into an abomination. Didn’t being an apprentice mean working toward the role of the master? Could he really become a magister someday?

Gaius continued. “Do not mistake me, Feynriel. I am honored by your request. You are, however, not from Tevinter, and if you have been told wrong… I would not have you make this decision on false information.”

Feynriel realized that the magister thought that Feynriel had sought him out specifically. “Forgive me, mesere, but I did not seek you out. I mean… I don’t even know how I found you. It was… I fell asleep and there was this elven woman who wanted me to follow her. I thought she was a demon but… then we were in a palace and I saw… you…”

Gaius suddenly looked very weary. “That is what you meant… Then you saw…”

Feynriel looked at his hands, again feeling uncomfortable with having seen something so personal. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I-”

“No need to apologize. I am grateful. Although I wish…” The magister cleared his throat and forced a smile. “But now is not the time for old wounds. I have retired to Vol Dorma, but I can introduce you to other magisters in Minrathous. For your own safety, I would advise against telling anyone of your unique abilities until you have chosen. I shall-”

“Can you train me to use my power?” Feynriel froze as he realized he had interrupted the magister, but Gaius did not seem offended.

Gaius nodded. “I can do that.”

“And do you want to… I mean…”

Gaius smiled. “It would be my honor, Feynriel, to take you as my apprentice.”

“Then I have made my choice. I can’t imagine most magisters would be telling me to choose carefully and…” _And would not have a half-elven son whom they loved and acknowledged as their own even as my merchant father would not._

* * *

**Tevinter – Minrathous**

Varania pressed down the brass latch and pulled open the red cedar door to her chambers. She took in the sight of her sitting room with its couches and carpets and tapestries. Through the open doorway across the room, she saw her four-post bed, draped with embroidered curtains. Beyond that was her balcony overlooking her master’s gardens. These sights had so recently brought her joy and comfort, but now filled her with guilt.

Twisting her hands together, Varania crossed the room to the table where one of the gardeners would leave her fresh flowers. The three roses in the vase were wilted, nearly dead. He probably hadn’t expected her to be back already, yet Varania felt an unexpected sadness. Weaving restoration magic, she set about repairing them. Although she could not reattach the petals that had fallen, she could return those that remained to their delicate shape and rich red color. The task did much to soothe her nerves. She enjoyed using her magic, but more than that, it felt good to heal and make things whole.

“You do have some skill with magic.”

Startled, Varania turned to see Sadius in the open doorway. He leaned against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest, watching her. He wore a dark satin robe over a fitted high-collar tunic – not the usual style in Tevinter and something she thought might be from Orlais. While she knew that her master’s first apprentice must be in his forties, Sadius looked a decade younger. His hair was still jet black. He always wore it tight against his head, pulled back into a knot. There was never so much as a single strand out of place.

Varania pulled a stray lock of her unruly red hair behind an ear and fought the urge to bow. “Sadius…”

He stalked toward her, the directness of his gaze unnerving. She felt very much like prey. “I should have known he would not have offered you apprenticeship were you not more than the elf’s half-sister. You certainly aren’t to his other tastes.” He smirked and rubbed a thumb and forefinger over his thin mustache.

Varania no longer knew what he was talking about and did not wish to ask.

Sadius put a hand on the wall beside her, making her feel trapped and vulnerable. His smile was almost friendly. Almost. “A word of advice from his former apprentice: Danarius will not look kindly on you falling apart over a _slave_. That goes for the new toy as well as your gardener.”

“What?” She glanced aside toward her roses and then back into Sadius’s dark eyes.

He leaned closer to her so that she felt his breath against her face as he spoke. “Did you think it appropriate for a slave to lavish such attentions on a magister’s apprentice?”

“He didn’t… Where is he?”

“Tending his garden beneath the soil. Rather apropos-”

“You monster!” It was out before Varania could think better of it.

Sadius’s mouth twitched into a sneer. “Monster? _I’m_ not the one…”

Varania no longer heard him, no longer saw him as her eyes flooded and he blurred from her vision. She was seeing the dark-haired elf who’d tended the flowers, offering her a shy smile when their eyes met over the rose bushes. She was seeing all those they’d taken on at Kirkwall so full of hope, now all dead. She was seeing the way Fenris had looked at her when Danarius had entered the tavern. The pain in his eyes tore her heart, and then the way that Kaiden had looked at her brother…

Varania felt an arm around her, guiding her across the room to sit on her bed. Forcing herself to breathe slow and deep, she fought to stop the tears. She felt the mattress compress as Sadius sat beside her. She wiped her eyes and turned to face him. He was watching her, his expression no longer unkind, maybe even puzzled. Then the scars caught her eye. She had never seen them before but from this angle and so close, she could see where they curved across Sadius’s throat beneath his collar. They were broad, not created by something sharp, more like the abrasion of a rope. He sighed. “This is what-”

“Who hurt you?” That wasn’t how Varania had meant to ask.

Sadius pulled back as if stung and turned away, hiding his scars from her view. His voice was hard and sharp as glass. “Did you imagine that you were free once you were no longer a slave? Or now that you are a magister’s apprentice? Few are truly free. The rest of us are their puppets.” He stood and glared at her before leaving. “You are as expendable now as ever, should you displease him. Remember that.”


	12. The Lyrium Ritual

_Author's Note: This is a dark chapter and may be disturbing to some readers._

* * *

**Tevinter – Minrathous**

It was a song of sorrow and madness, punctuated by screams of anger and hatred. Kaiden awoke in a cold sweat. While he heard nothing, he knew that there were voices wailing just outside of his perception. Malevolence hung like smoke in the air. As the sleep spell wore off and the fog lifted from his mind, he became aware of his physical surroundings. He was cold, naked, and still chained, but now he was upright with his limbs outstretched instead of bound together. His weight was held up by metal vises clinched around the back of his wrists and his ankles were similarly pinned. Trying to take the weight off his arms, he cried out as pain stabbed through the bones of his wrists. The sound echoed, mocking him. He felt presences around him like vultures, waiting for his death, and shuddered. The Veil was thin here.

Kaiden moved his head slowly, trying to ease the ache in his neck and shoulders. From what he could see, the room in which he hung was circular and hewn directly from the stone. It felt like a tomb. Unnatural red light illuminated runes and pictorial symbols engraved across the walls and ceiling. They seemed to be for directing power along six arcs that ran from the floor to the center of the dome directly above him. Horror was fraying the edges of his mind. He fought to ignore it, focusing instead on the symbols, trying to get a sense of their meaning. He was not helpless. He was a mage, and if he knew the nature of the magic being worked, he might be able to find a way to fight it. Many of the images clearly referenced blood magic. Others seemed to depict puppetry or… mind control. Dread twisted his stomach as the pieces fell into place. Danarius was going to do to him what he had done to Fenris; he meant to take away his memories.

Kaiden realized then that he had never despaired, never accepted the reality of his situation, clinging instead to the hope of escape. Now the reality was sinking in, crushing him. He was going to die, and very soon, but his body would not. He would become Danarius’s puppet, and a powerful one, doing what he was told without question. For the first time in his captivity, he felt truly alone. He would really never see his friends again. He would not even remember them.

No. He would not allow it. There had to be something he could do to thwart Danarius. He had to try. Kaiden focused on the essence of himself, his beliefs and passions, the experiences that had shaped him, the memories of his family and friends, and thought of locking this away, deep within himself, beyond himself. Danarius would not reach it, would not find it. As he wove a magical barrier in his mind, the room faded from his awareness. He was remembering his father instructing him in magic, lessons that when he was a boy would devolve into tales of ogres and dragons. He recalled the tune his mother would hum as she tended the flowers in her garden. Then he thought of Fenris, and olive-green eyes that could melt him with a look, like they had that night so long ago. All he’d wanted was to take away the sadness that shadowed those eyes, to replace bad memories with good. He remembered the disgust that had filled those eyes when last they’d looked upon him. Fenris would never see him as anything but a monster. _Oh Fenris, may you find someone who brings you the happiness that I could not._

He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud until Danarius’s mocking laugh jarred him from his thoughts. Opening his eyes, he quickly turned to blink away moisture. Shit. Was even his soul to be bared before this monster?

“Here you are, sighing like a maiden for my little Fenris. I would have expected him to play the bitch.”

“Don’t you dare speak of him!” Ice crystals formed in Danarius’s beard, giving Kaiden some satisfaction that the bonds hadn’t drained his magic fast enough.

“Impressive.” Danarius brushed the frost from his beard as his eyes roamed over Kaiden. “You are already powerful and with lyrium… Did you know that Fenris competed for the honor?”

“You lie.”

“My dear boy, what possible motive would I have to lie to you? You do know that he remembers nothing from before the ritual?”

“I know Fenris.”

Danarius waved a hand dismissively. “Fenris does not know Fenris. He is nothing apart from me.”

“You arrogant bastard! You may have owned him once, but you do not anymore.”

“Don’t I? When has his existence not revolved around me? Even now, he is no doubt on his way to Minrathous.”

“You should kill me, because if you don’t, I will kill you. Even if I have to come back as a ghost, as an abomination, I will hunt you down, and I will kill you, you damned fucking bastard.”

Denarius laughed and then licked his lips. “Are those all the epithets you can think of? But I cannot allow such defiance from my pets.”

“Sure, believe I’m your dog and I will rip your throat out.”

“I hear that in Fereldan you let the dogs choose their masters. Such a backward people you are.” He stepped closer. His breath smelled strangely sweet. “It is time for your first lesson.” He spoke calmly, as if giving a lecture. “As a healer you should know how very fragile the body is, so easily broken. And the mind is tied to it.” Grabbing Kaiden’s hair at the scalp, Danarius held his head still as he ran his fingers across Kaiden’s face to just before his ear. “There is a nerve here, sensitive, to feel a light touch… a lover’s caress. But when it is pinched, men have killed themselves to escape the agony.” Kaiden felt a jolt of magic at Danarius’s fingertips followed by pain, stabbing shattering pain exploding through his skull. As he screamed, Danarius covered his mouth with his own, not so much kissing him as crushing his mouth against his. Only then did the pain stop. Kaiden struggled to turn away, but Danarius knotted his hand tighter in his hair and forced his mouth open. He tasted of figs and wine. Disgust and hatred tore through him, and he fought to pull magic into a spell, but it slipped from his grasp. At last Danarius released him and stood back, a small smile on his face. Kaiden felt blood trickle from his lips. Lacking any other means of retaliation, he spat at Danarius and felt some small victory to see blood and spittle on the magister’s robe. Danarius frowned. “It is time to begin the ritual and I am feeling… inspired.”

Danarius left the cell and Kaiden was again alone. Everything within him was yelling for him to get out of there. Danarius was going to make him his tool, his toy, and he wouldn’t be able to fight it. The thought of Fenris coming here, seeing him, worse, of Danarius using him against Fenris… Fury and panic drowned all thought from his mind and he lunged forward in an attempt to tear his arms free. Pain ripped up his arms, making him scream through his teeth. It was futile. He felt blood trickle down his wrists but he was still held fast in the bonds. He tried again to focus his magic, but could not even focus his mind on the effort.

It was several minutes before Danarius returned, now wearing a plain black robe tied at the waist with a sash. Following him was a retinue of servants and slaves. Six men in black cowls each led an elf to one of the arches around the dome. The elves wore simple white robes and moved as if in sleep, eyes staring blank and unseeing. Kaiden realized they were being controlled by blood magic. Another servant carried Danarius’s tools, which appeared to consist mostly of brushes and shimmering inks.

Danarius examined Kaiden’s wrists and frowned. Muttering something in Tevene, he bound Kaiden with magic that left him unable to move at all. Then he set to work with the brushes. It was a strange sensation, as Danarius began to paint him, the ink was cold wetness, the brush sometimes a tickle as it glided across his skin. Danarius’ strokes were confident, like he’d painted this design many times. Kaiden saw that he was being painted with four colors – orange, green, blue, and purple – in lines entwining all over his body. His arms were most heavily marked, and a line of each color extended down his wrists and palms, one to each finger.

At a signal from Danarius, his servants slit the throats of the enthralled elves. They did not cry out, did not protest, as blood flowed freely down the front of their robes. While Kaiden felt grief at their deaths, he was ashamed to also feel envy. Their suffering was over while his was about to begin. As the cowled men started chanting, Danarius began to weave a spell.

The runes on the dome glowed with magic and energy traced up the arcs to the center of the dome. Dark energy descended upon Kaiden, activating something in the ink patterning his skin. Where he had a moment ago felt cool ink, he now felt searing pain. The ink, the lyrium, was burning into his flesh like a brand. He gritted his teeth and tried to distract himself, focus on anything else. His memories, maybe if… The pain intensified as the lyrium worked its way deeper, becoming a part of his flesh, making him cry out in agony. It was molten metal, burning through every inch of him. He screamed until he could no longer draw breath, couldn’t even think anymore, as the pain drove all other awareness from his mind. It became the entirety of his existence; there was no past nor future for him anymore, only misery.

He had no idea how long the torture lasted. When the pain finally began to subside he was able to pull in shuddering breaths. His entire body felt raw, as if all his flesh had been flayed and then burned. He felt tears running down his face, mingling with sweat and blood.

He gasped when he felt someone against his back. There was a tickle at his shoulder, warm breath at his neck, the smell of wine and figs, as Danarius chanted in Tevene. There was a pause, a palpable moment of stillness, as he felt a hand at his hip, cool fingers between the burn of the lyrium. Sudden pain tore up his body as Danarius thrust into him. Icy fingers of magic invaded his mind, searching, to his core, to his magic. Kaiden screamed against the violation. He felt his magic being bent, twisted against his will, to the will of Danarius.

_The amulet slipped through his fingers, falling in slow motion, but he failed to catch it before it shattered on the clay tiles… He was falling, falling, and there was nothing to grab onto…_

His head rolled back and he moaned as the demon pulled out of him. A clawed hand gently stroked his cheek. “There, there, my pet. It is over now.” The voice soothed him. A crowd of elves and humans surrounded him, regarding him with eerie white eyes. Some were weeping, others pointed fingers of accusation, yelling words he could not understand. One made a face at him and laughed. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the crowd had vanished. Six black wraiths moved around the edge of the dome and floated out into a passageway. He was glad when they were gone.

* * *

Varania had shut herself in her room, but she could not shut out the sound of Kaiden’s screams. It was hours later that Danarius called for her. Now she stood outside the door to Kaiden’s cell, trying not to tremble. Danarius emerged some minutes later, covered in blood, an exultant smile on his face. “Make sure his body accepts the lyrium. I won’t have this one dying like the others.” Not waiting for a response, he whisked down the hall, trusting his order to be obeyed.

Varania stepped in and closed the door. Kaiden lay on the floor in the center of the small room. His entire body was covered in lyrium tattoos of four colors. She knelt beside him, unsure what to do. He was ghastly pale and covered in sweat, despite the coolness of the room. She wove a healing spell over him and touched the back of her fingers to his face.

He clasped her hand, painfully. When he spoke, she almost didn’t hear him. His voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “Where… where am I?”

“In Danarius’s estate.”

“Who?”

“Do you not remember?”

The man began to shake. “I… no, I don’t remember anything. Please, don’t leave me. It hurts.” His voice cracked. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Varania moved so that she cradled his head in her lap. He clung to her like she was the only thing keeping him from drowning. Brushing her fingers through his hair, she blinked back tears. “Shhh, I will stay with you.”


	13. Awakening

**Isabela’s Ship**

They had finally rounded Rivain. Fenris had stayed in his cabin most of the trip. There were others more skilled at sailing than he was, and he preferred to be alone. Today, however, they were meeting to discuss their plan of action once they reached Tevinter. Entering the main cabin, he was surprised to see Merrill seated at the table, holding a wooden _halla_ toy. She glanced up when he entered. “Oh, hello Fenris.”

“I… didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yes, well, I suppose I’m not very good at strategy, but then I’m not so good at ‘rigging the sails’ and that sort of thing either, so…”

“I meant on the ship.”

She furrowed her brow. “But of course I would be! Hawke’s in trouble!”

“You were quite upset when he wouldn’t give you the _arulin’holm_.”

“Yes, he can be aggravatingly like the Keeper at times, but at least Hawke doesn’t scowl at me. And then he jokes and makes everything better with a smile.” She frowned. “You must think I’m a monster if you think I’d abandon him because of that. I mean, you argue with him more than I do, but you’re here.”

Fenris winced.

“Not all mages are bad, Fenris.”

He almost said something about blood magic, but then he was back in the Hanged Man… _The hated all-too-familiar feel of blood magic had engulfed his senses and he saw nothing but the hand that reached for him, covered in gore. “Blood magic!” Kaiden had turned away as if slapped. Fenris saw the hurt in those ice-blue eyes, knew that he had put it there, and yet the mage stood to confront Danarius for him…_

“Fenris?”

He shook himself. “I’m just tired.” He raked his hands through his hair and then sank into one of the chairs around the table. They were soon joined by Varric, Anders, Isabela, and Zevran. Anders sat as far away from Fenris as it was possible to do at the table while Varric laid out an old map of Minrathous. Fenris pointed out things that he remembered differently, defenses, and the extent of Danarius’s compound, while Varric made note of them.

Varric sighed, “This magister knows his shit. He obviously cased Kirkwall. He knew The Hanged Man’s history. Ten sovereigns says he’d recognize any of us… except Antiva.” Varric looked to Zevran.

Zevran smiled. “Getting in and out of trouble is a specialty of mine.”

Fenris frowned. “You might be able to pass as an elven slave, if you avoid speaking.”

Zevran laughed. “Better yet, my friend, I shall avoid being seen in the first place.”

Anders spoke at this. “So that’s it? We sit on our hands while you go into that blighted place all by yourself? No offense, Zev, but getting yourself out undetected is one thing, bringing someone with you…”

“I could disguise some of us to go with him.” Isabela looked to Varric. “Are there many dwarves in Tevinter? Otherwise, I do have some platform shoes.”

“Many thanks, Rivaini, but someone has to live to tell this tale.”

“There has to be some advantage we can use.” Anders turned to Fenris. “Does Danarius have enemies?”

“None that would help us.”

Anders scowled. “You’re no use.”

Fenris glared at him. “Perhaps you could use your magic to teleport us in and out, or turn all of Danarius’s guards into frogs.”

“You know that’s impossible!”

“Hmph.”

Isabela turned to Zevran, who was trying to suppress a laugh. “Even your mind can’t have found something funny in that!”

“Ah, my dear, I was just reminded of Alistair. He feared mages would turn him into a frog. Must be something they teach templar recruits in Fereldan, which would explain why our Anders was able to escape them so many times.”

“Hey!”

Merrill’s brow furrowed again. “Fereldan templars think mages can turn them into frogs?”

Isabela laughed. “Only the bright ones, Kitten.”

“No wonder they hunt apostates! Someone should tell them we can’t do that!”

“No,” Fenris scowled. “You only turn them into abominations.”

Anders rolled his eyes. “Maker, help me!”

Varric leaned toward Zevran. “From what I hear, Lorynn _did_ place a spell on him.”

“Indeed,” Zevran answered conspiratorially. “His fellow Gray Warden made a man out of him.”

“You must tell me the story sometime: The Templar and the Mage.”

Anders grumbled, “He wasn’t _actually_ a templar.”

Isabela waved a hand at him. “Shush, you. Don’t ruin our story with your facts.”

Fenris shook his head. “I cannot believe a templar, of all people, would fall for a mage.”

Zevran sighed. “Love makes fools of us all, or so the rumor goes.”

“Speaking of foolishness,” Anders tapped the table, “How are we getting Kaiden out of Danarius’s tower?” He held up a hand toward Zevran and Isabela. “And no comments from this side of the table.” Isabela pouted. Anders looked over at Fenris and Merrill, and frowned. “So, Varric, what do you think?”

* * *

**Tevinter – Vol Dorma**

Feynriel woke slowly, lingering in the cozy aftermath of a good night's sleep. He stretched his toes against the silken sheets. Spreading his arms, he could barely reach the edges of his bed. He marveled, not for the first time, at how much his fortune had changed in just a few weeks.

Feynriel pulled back the lush blue tapestries that encompassed his bed. The wards that Gaius had inscribed on the walls of his spacious bedroom shone with lyrium. They kept demons away and would prevent him from getting lost in the Fade while he learned to master his abilities. Just looking at them made him feel safe.

After dressing in the tunic and robes laid out for him, he left his suite and wandered toward the courtyard at the center of the estate. The open architecture was clean and unadorned – not gilded in an ostentatious display of wealth as had been the vestibule he’d seen in Gaius’s dream. Feynriel believed that he had seen Gaius’s estate in Minrathous and wondered what exactly had happened to his family. His master did not like to speak about the past, however, and Feynriel had not asked.

Stepping out onto the covered walkway surrounding the courtyard, Feynriel relished the crisp morning breeze. The air was scented by herbs and flowers. In Kirkwall, the wind that wound its way into the alienage had reeked of fish when it wasn’t biting cold.

Feynriel saw Gaius walking toward him. His master was wearing a dark woolen robe with the hood pulled up over his head. Evidently, he found the Tevinter winter much colder than Feynriel did. Gaius smiled at him. “Did you sleep well? I was just coming to wake you.”

Feynriel grimaced. "Too well, it would seem."

“Nonsense. You needed the rest. But I didn’t want to leave without...” His smile fell. "I must go to Minrathous. My presence is required at the Senate."

Feynriel didn't like the thought of Gaius leaving him here. Few in Gaius’s estate spoke the common tongue and Feynriel was tired of feeling like an outsider. "I would like to see the city."

Alarm clouded Gaius's face briefly before he forced it away with a smiled. "Someday. There is much history to see there but it is too dangerous now." His smile left again as his face fell under the shadow of memory. "I must set things right..." Gaius drew himself back to the present, his gaze again meeting Feynriel’s. "Auran shall give you lessons in Tevene language and history until I can return and continue your instruction. Sleep only in your room and the wards will keep you safe." He placed a crystal in Feynriel’s hand. The translucent crystal shimmered with magic, its core alternately a green glow and a darkness which seemed to absorb light. "If there is any trouble, I would return immediately. Take care, my son." Gaius gave Feynriel's shoulder a squeeze, then left, leaving Feynriel standing there too stunned to reply. 'My son?' How long had he wished for such acknowledgment from his own father? He did not know what to think beyond increased wonder about his new master.

* * *

**Tevinter – Minrathous**

Something wasn’t right. His entire body ached, but that wasn’t it. He knew why that was and flinched away from the memory. Where was he? Who was he? Had the pain brought him into existence? He could remember nothing from before that. But no, that did not seem right. At least, he did not want that to be true.

He felt fingers running through his hair and then soothing energy washed over him. He smelled rosewater and heard a voice, feminine, humming a song. His mother used to hum to herself while she tended flowers in her garden. Yes, he’d had a mother. This thought reassured him somewhat and made the world seem less wrong. He tried to recall something else about her, but the memory slipped away, and then he was no longer certain what he was trying to remember.

He opened his eyes and discovered that his head was resting on the lap of the woman who was humming and stroking his hair. She had pale skin and red hair – like him, he realized. Her hair was pulled back into a knot, revealing elegantly tapered ears. A few locks were left to hang free, framing a beautiful face with large olive-green eyes. She stopped humming when she noticed him watching her. “How do you feel?”

“Hurts.” He frowned at the sound of his own voice. “Am I dead?”

The question seemed to startle her. “No. Why would you think that?”

“All I remember is… pain… and then… you’ve been with me… Are you an angel?”

She blushed. “Don’t be silly. I’m an elf.”

“Elf.” He said the word, certain it should have some significance to him, but could think of none other than as a distinction of race, like human or dwarf. “I… seem to know things… but not what any of it means. What happened to me?”

She looked away. “I don’t know. Some kind of magic…”

Magic, the power within him. He reached for it, and found nothing there. He frowned. Why had he thought he had magic? He sat up. The motion left him feeling lightheaded. He raised a hand to his… wait, that wasn’t right. He stared at the four colored lines that ran down his forearm, wrist, and palm, one to each finger. Those shouldn’t be there. Again the memory of being consumed by searing pain overwhelmed him and he shuddered. “I remember dying.”

“I’m so sorry.” He looked back, alarmed at the pain in her voice.

“No, it wasn’t your fault.”

“How can you know that? You don’t remember.”

“I remember you staying with me, making it not hurt so much… Who are you?”

“My name is Varania.”

“Varania.” He liked the way her name sounded.

He was thinking of what to ask next, when he heard voices from outside the small room they were in. Something within his chest tightened. The door opened and two men stepped in. While he didn't recognize the dark-haired man, he realized with dread that the man with the gray beard was the one who’d hurt him. The man smiled at him, but that only made the feeling worse. “Tell me, my dear, what do you remember?”

“I… you hurt me.”

The dark-haired man smirked and ran a thumb over his mustache.

The man with the gray beard was unimpressed with his response. “Pain is always a part of creation. Do you remember anything from before that?”

He tried to recall anything else. There had been something… “A song…”

“Interesting. Nothing else? Do you know your name?”

Nothing came to mind. “No.”

“You are Azrin, and you belong to me. I am Danarius, but you shall address me as Master, for that is what I am to you.” Something about the way the man had said his name touched something inside Azrin, as if his leash had been tugged on and he just now realized that he was chained. “Now stand up.”

It was a Command, and Azrin was moving to obey before he realized it. He stumbled and Varania grabbed his arm, steadying him. His strange markings tingled at her touch.

“Varania,” Danarius's tone was gentler, but still brooked no disobedience. “You have done your duty. Leave Azrin to us now.”

Releasing him as if his skin suddenly burned her, Varania stepped back. “Yes, Master.”

Azrin felt a pang of abandonment. Something dark flew at his head and he ducked, too late, but it was soft and did not hurt. Azrin stared at the bundle of black cloth which had landed at his feet. As he looked back up at Danarius, the dark-haired man laughed. “Perhaps the ritual addled more than his memories.”

Danarius frowned. “Dress yourself. It is time to begin your training.”


	14. Blood and Wine

**Isabela’s Ship**

Fenris was back in his cabin, at the small table beside his bunk, drinking his fourth bottle of Antivan wine. They had all agreed that their best chance for a rescue would be before Danarius disembarked in Minrathous – if they could catch up with him. Danarius had two days on them and they’d seen no sign of his ship on the horizon. Two days. Isabella and more than a few of their crew were skilled at sailing and the ship was fast. They might be able to cut into that lead. Perhaps Danarius would be delayed. Two days.

Fenris could not shake the feeling that they should _be_ there by now. He tried to recall conversations about slave ships returning from the Free Marches, but the details eluded him. There had been no reason to pay attention to men so far below Danarius, men who would never offer his master any threat. Fenris didn’t think Danarius would do anything to Hawke while they were at sea. He would want to bring Hawke back to his lair in Minrathous. They _had_ to get Hawke out of there before that. The thought of Danarius hurting Hawke…

Fenris fought the urge to fling the wine bottle against the wall. He had no desire to draw more attention to himself. He didn’t realize how tightly he was gripping the bottle until it shattered in his hand. Red wine splashed across his gauntlet, reminding him of the blood that more frequently covered it. The wine ran off, like water; it did not cling to him like blood, did not stain him.

There was a knock at his door. Fenris told them to go away, or thought he did, maybe it came out in Tevene, for the next moment, the door opened and Zevran stepped in. Fenris shoved the broken bottle across the table toward the blond elf. The pieces skittered over the edge, each making a small chinkle as it dropped to the wood floor. “What do you want?”

“Quite the charmer, aren’t you?”

“I’m _not_ interested.”

Zevran chuckled. “Presumptuous too. My friend, have you _seen_ yourself lately?”

For some reason, Isabela’s comments on him came to mind and Fenris decided to throw these at the other elf. “I’m told I’m lanky and have beautiful eyes.”

“Ha! More like gaunt with bloodshot eyes. When was the last time you slept?”

“Can anyone sleep with the noise you two make?”

Zevran only grinned at that.

“Why are you even here, on this ship?”

“This again?”

“Don’t tell me about your Crows. There are many ships going places less dangerous than Minrathous I’m sure.”

Zevran sat on a stool across from Fenris. “A fair question I suppose.” He was silent a moment before continuing. “I miss… I miss Lorynn.”

“The Hero of Ferelden? Surely she is not in Tevinter...”

“That is not my meaning. Travelling with her, being a part of something… saving the world is a fine business, yes, but… there was more… something that drew others to her… Isabela tells me that Hawke is also such a one.”

“He is _mine_.” Fenris surprised both of them with his declaration. He glared at the empty bottles he’d lined up beside his chair. Perhaps Antivan wine was stronger than Agregio.

Zevran started to say something and then laughed. “Well, I would usually make some lewd joke here, but your expression drives from me such thoughts.”

“Good.”

“Do not trouble yourself on that account, my friend. I have been found between many things, but never love.”

Fenris was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know…” Zevran’s gaze dropped to the row of empty wine bottles. “We are not so different, you and I.”

“Do all elves outside Tevinter think we are the same? You and I are _nothing_ alike. Do not begin to think that we are.”

“I was a slave, sold to the Crows as a boy, trained by them to kill.”

“You know nothing of being a slave.”

Zevran glared at him. “It is still a cage, even if a gilded one.” His gaze returned to the bottles. “Regret has sent me into the arms of oblivion, even to flirt with that final mistress, Death.”

“I doubt you regret killing Antivan aristocrats.” When Zevran didn’t comment, Fenris leaned across the table and waited until the elf’s brown eyes met his green. He would tell the elf just what he had done and he didn’t want to miss his reaction. “When I became separated from Danarius on Seheron, a band of rebels took me in, nursed me back to health. It was the first true kindness I can remember. But when Danarius came, I _killed_ them, _all_ of them, at his command. Anyone I care about dies… because of me.”

Zevran did not look away, but instead leaning closer, his expression cold. “I killed the woman I loved, spat in her face and called her traitor, even as she told me she loved me. Though I am hypocrite to say it, you cannot blame yourself, especially not for Hawke.” Fenris could think of nothing to say. Zevran stood and sighed. All the swagger gone, he seemed like an entirely different man. “Take care of yourself. You’re no good to Hawke like this.” He left then, closing the door softly behind him.

* * *

**Tevinter – Minrathous**

His bare feet silent against the dirt, Azrin jogged through the dark back alleyways. It was strange. He could not recall ever being outside of Danarius’s tower and yet he knew exactly where to go. He turned left and twisted sideways to squeeze between two brick walls, leapt over a sleeping form, and then resumed his pace. Had he navigated these passages before? Or had Danarius somehow instilled in him the knowledge?

His green markings glowed faintly, but no one else would see them. He had shrouded himself in illusion and was now little more than a furtive shadow but even that was unnecessary. Lit only by a narrow band of night sky from high above, anyone could have gone unseen in these back alleys. Unseen except by him. Lyrium hummed through his senses and he saw better than he would have even in daylight, for he perceived everything as what it Was. The bricks told him where they had been made and how long they had stood in these walls. The dirt underfoot told him who had passed this way hours ago, days ago. Life especially stood out to him, practically singing in his vision.

It was glorious using magic. He felt alive and vitally connected to the world around him. It made every other moment of his limited existence seem like a hazy dream, or more accurately, a nightmare. He only had magic when Danarius Commanded it. And then Azrin had no choice but to obey his Command. He could not even think of any reason why he should wish to do otherwise, any more than he would wish to stop breathing.

Azrin slowed when he came to a large stone wall. It was tall and proud, the stones well cut and fitted snugly together. Although it had stood for some time, it had not been allowed to fall into disrepair. It was both a symbol for and the protection of the one who had built it. Azrin walked forward, phasing into a quasi-spirit being. The wall was meaningless against him.

He moved effortlessly through the empty space that comprises most of the material world. The wall was thick, but he was soon through it, only to be stopped by a magical barrier. Azrin placed his hands against it, feeling the weave of the magic. It was well made, probably by the magister himself, but it too was meaningless against him. The barrier was made from several spells woven together and he cut each one, like snipping threads in a tapestry. All at once, it unraveled. Azrin stepped out of the wall. He found himself in the middle of an empty stone hallway and phased back into his solid form. Cloaking himself in shadow, he crouched, held still, and listened. One of the weaves had recoiled as he had dispelled it, like it was anchored elsewhere. It had to be an alarm.

Pounding boots announced the coming of guards and confirmed Azrin’s suspicion. He stretched out his arms, and waited. The warm glow of life filled his peripheral vision. Opening his hands, he released two fireballs. Life was consumed in a wild screaming blaze of red, then darkness, silence. Azrin stood. He had to move quickly before the magister escaped, but for the first time tonight, he was uncertain which way to go. The charred remains of three guards lay down the hall to his right, five to the left. Left then. He broke into a run.

More guards. Cone of cold, shift to stone, crash through. Shatter. Crystals filled the air, fragments that once held life, tinkling to the floor. He ran through them, felt them sting his skin like sleet. He was a shade – quiet, deadly, inexorable. A larger corridor led off of this one and he took it. He ran through halls that looked lived in – servants’ quarters. He knew he must be getting closer to his target and was surprised to see neither servants nor more guards. He started to turn down another hall and stopped. The wall before him looked innocent, but Azrin could feel it was hiding the heart of the manor. He phased through it.

“You!” Azrin turned to see a young man wearing a magister’s robe running at him and brandishing a staff. “Danarius sent you to kill Magister Daxus, didn’t he? Well, here I am. Send me to the Void and be gone, demon!”

Azrin looked the boy up and down, from his disheveled ginger hair to the bare foot poking out from beneath the too large robe. He was obviously not his target, but Danarius’s instructions had been clear. _“Bring me the head of Magister Daxus. Kill anyone you come across in his estate. No one who sees you can live.”_ Azrin raised his hand. The boy did not flinch, but met Azrin’s gaze bravely. Something in him paused. Then the compulsion lashed against his mind and he wondered why he had hesitated. He unleashed a fireball as someone rammed into the back of his knees, knocking him backward onto his assailant and sending the fireball against the ceiling. Azrin redirected his magic to form a barrier, protecting himself from the fiery explosion.

A deep voice shouted from under him. “Get out of here, Alex! _Run!_ ” Azrin sprung up into a crouch and saw the edge of a blue robe disappear around a corner. The boy was gone, the staff left lying in the hallway. A powerful blast of dispellation magic hit him. Releasing the shadow illusion, Azrin let the other mage’s magic tear it to pieces as he directed all his magic to maintaining his barrier. Turning to face his assailant, he saw a silver-haired man wearing a simple robe over a nightshirt. Azrin took in the man’s features and more importantly, Saw the man’s power through his lyrium. This was his target, the Magister Daxus. The man watched him as if he expected that spell to have changed him. “I can free you from Danarius. You don’t-”

Azrin laughed as he slammed a crushing spell on the man. “I am his _creation_.” The sword hissed as he drew it. He stood and walked around the magister, now writhing under his magic. As he brought the blade to the man’s throat, the mage suddenly twisted free, grabbed Azrin’s arm and redirected the sword toward the floor. Azrin gasped as the mage sent pain ripping through his markings. He could tell by the magister’s surprised expression that he’d expected it to be disabling. All at once he understood why Danarius had put him through so much worse. It was not sadism or punishment, but meant to strengthen him, to teach him to endure. He yanked the sword back, gashing the man’s throat in a spray of blood. The magister collapsed. His mouth moved as if to speak, but no sound came forth. Azrin lifted the sword and slashed it down hard to finish the job.

He did not rise immediately, but knelt there, covered in the magister’s blood, and tried to slow his breathing. Something felt very _wrong_ with him, and for a moment, he wondered if there had been more to the spell. That wasn’t it. It was the part of him that had paused when he should have killed the boy; that part was reviled by what he had done. Closing his eyes, he waited for the compulsion to bring his world back into focus. The Command pounded through his mind. He breathed deep, held it, felt every other thought smothered into oblivion until only the desire to obey was left. He exhaled and opened his eyes. He needed to take this head back to Danarius.


End file.
